


Retrograde

by PurpleBunniBoy



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleBunniBoy/pseuds/PurpleBunniBoy
Summary: Mike Schmidt wakes up in the hospital disfigured with no memories, no family, and nothing to show who he was in the past. After being taken in by the Burke's, he eventually begins working a the local Freddy Fazbear's pizza. Something about the place is all too familiar and strange. A rotting yellow bunny begins following him while a yellow bear haunts his waking and sleeping life. As the puzzle pieces of his past begin falling into place and memories return, he realizes that perhaps some things would have been better left forgotten.-This is a Michael Afton AU which you can find more about on my tumblr!CONTENT WARNINGS: Implications of physical and emotional abuse, blood and gore, spoilers of the original book trilogy, and strong language.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU. It exists in its own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

* * *

“Michael.”

The word rang out so clear to him and yet it sounded like multiple people were saying it. In an empty black void, he reached out but could find nothing to hold onto. From the emptiness, shapes and figures appeared but they were there and gone before he could process what they were or what they meant. He tried to run after them but whether or not he was actually moving, he couldn’t tell since there was nothing visible around him to make apparent any progress was being made. Finally something became clear, almost like a fog was slowly dissipating to reveal it. A figure, taller than him, with his back turned.

“Oh, Michael,” The figure turned his head slightly as he spoke, a deep and familiar voice, with many other voices echoing his words, “I had such hopes for you.” He walked forward, disappearing back into the emptiness.

Michael reached his arm out as if hoping to grab the figure and pull him back into his sight but his fingers brushed only empty air. Still he called out, “wait! I-”

From where the figure had been standing, a thin metal cord shot out, striking Michael in the chest, just between the ribs, and cutting off his words. The force of the blow made him take a step back. He gasped at the sudden shock of pain and his hand instinctively went up to grasp the wound.

A second cord shot out followed by a third and a fourth, striking him in the shoulder, upper chest, and stomach. The blood gurgled in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. His knees shook violently and buckled beneath him. Sinking to the floor, he noticed a yellow bear plush set in front of him. Its hollow eyes seemed to somehow be staring right at him.

“You’re going to forget now,” a voice whispered in his ear, “come find me when you remember. I’ll be waiting.”

Another cord shot out going straight through the center of his forehead.

He woke with a jolt, the images he’d just experienced vanishing immediately. A single light above him cast a dim glow on his surroundings. Around the bed he was laying on, a white curtain was drawn, blocking the rest of the room from his view. Drawn white curtain, white fitted sheets, segmented white ceiling, white tile floor. Machines beeped lightly and just to his right, a tube drained some liquid slowly down into where it connected to his inner elbow. It all felt so familiar and yet he couldn’t figure out why.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at the ceiling before the curtain was pulled back and a nurse walked in.

She jumped slightly when he looked at her. “Oh, you’re awake. Hold on just a moment then.” She turned back, attempting to close the curtain behind her but accidentally leaving just enough space for him to see. 

The room on the other side was completely dark but the hallway was illuminated brightly. The nurse walked over to a phone on the wall by the door, punching in some number and speaking softly with someone on the other end. Though he couldn’t hear what she was saying, he did see her cast an almost nervous looking glance back to where he was blankly staring at her. When she realized he could still see her, she turned her gaze quickly away. 

After a few minutes, she hung up, walking back to where he was laying. “The doctor will be with you in just a moment. Until then, I’m just gonna check the machines and such. How are you feeling?”

It took him a moment to even process what she said. Even when he did, he couldn’t find the words. All he managed to vocalize was a long “hmm.”

“Interesting,” the nurse said slowly, turning to a computer and pulling up some files which she then began typing notes into. She checked the machines, as she said she would, the activity they’d recorded, then went over to check the bandages on his middle, his arms, and his legs.

Another woman walked into the room carrying a clipboard and a stack of papers. The doctor and nurse exchanged a few quick words regarding his condition, looking over the papers and what was now typed out on the computer, before the doctor turned to him. “Can you tell me your name?”

He stared at her for a few moments. His mind felt blank and numb and yet something seemed to come up when she asked that. Something vague, like someone was yelling it to him while he was underwater. Warped. “Mmmm...mi-mi….” His speech was less than intelligible.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. Mike. That’s your name.”

Through the various other vital tests they did, he heard the phrase “severe head trauma” repeated multiple times. Supposedly, that’s what he had. When at last they left, Mike was able to fall back asleep though his dreams were filled with nonsense and he forgot them when he awoke the next morning.

The next afternoon, there was a soft knock on the door. “Mike, you have a visitor.” A tall figure stepped into the room, dressed in full police uniform.

The man walked over and pulled one of the small side chairs closer, sitting in it backwards with his elbows resting against the back. “Mike, my name is officer Clay Burke. I work for Hurricane P.D. How are you doing?”

Mike stared.

“Sorry. I know things might be a little difficult to process in your situation. I’m just gonna ask you some very simple questions and you just have to tell yes or no. Do you think you can do that?”

He nodded slowly.

“Great. Now I don’t want you to stress too much about this, ok? Do you know what your full name is?”

He shook his head.

“According to your file, your name is Mike Schmidt, ok? Do you know why you’re in the hospital right now, Mike?”

Again, he shook his head.

“4 nights ago, you were found just outside of town nearly on the brink of death. Torn to shreds, and that’s just putting it lightly. Now, Hurricane is a pretty small town but we aren’t without our incidents every now and again. But rarely. So I just want to figure out what happened. Do you remember anything from that night? I want you to really think about this before you respond.”

Mike cast his gaze to the side, hoping to grab onto something, anything, that he could remember. Some object, some figure, some color, but there just wasn’t anything there. For just a moment he thought he could picture some blur of something--eyes, perhaps-- but it was quickly gone and replaced with a pounding headache. He put both hands against his forehead and shook his head.

Clay stood up and put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Hey, woah, it’s ok. Don’t stress yourself too hard.”

Slowly losing his grip, Mike took a shaky breath.

“I’ve got a son about your age, you know.” Clay paused as he seemed to realize that wasn’t a good conversation segway. “ I’ll let you alone for now but I’ll be back to check on you and ask some questions another day. If anything comes up, anything at all, don’t hesitate to give me a call, ok?” He set a business card down on the table beside the bed and left.

In his absence, Mike picked up the card to examine it better, flipping it forwards and backwards. Again he tried to think back to that night but he couldn’t come up with anything prior to the nurse walking in the day before. And the more he tried, the more the pain in his head increased. Four whole days felt like an eternity to attempt to recount. Eventually he had no choice but to give up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU. It exists in its own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

* * *

The pattering of the rain on the roof reverberated through the dark building. Through the vents, the sound carried and the wind whistled. In the back office, the sound was almost startling, picking up in intensity at random intervals while the night guard, Jack, listened for the movement of the animatronics. He couldn’t tell what was water drops and what was the heavy metallic steps of a robotic creature lurking through the corridors to hunt him down. 

3 AM. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t seem to switch through the cameras on screen fast enough and he lost sight of Freddy. The heavy static on the feed made it near impossible to see and his head hurt from straining his eyes too hard at the screen. A deep laugh echoed he thought at first was to his left. But it wasn’t, instead it was to his right. Too late, he turned his head one way as from behind, two large hands grabbed him and pulled him from the desk chair. He yelped and reached out his arms, attempting to grab onto the desk but slipping off instead. He managed to grab onto the door frame just before he could be pulled through. With all his strength, he attempted to hold on. His arms ached and he tried readjusting his position in an attempt to loosen the grip of the laughing bear. The sound was ceaseless, maddening. Slowly he was able to inch his way forward. As he moved and adjusted, his hand hit the big red button labeled ‘door’ on the wall.

The animatronic realized the danger before he did. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Freddy let go, sending the night guard stumbling forward more. Jack caught himself on the door frame so he didn’t fall completely. As Freddy stepped back, the big metal door came down with a crash and a crunch. Everything fell silent once more--the only sound coming from the wind and the rain in the vents-- as the blood pooled in all directions over the red and black tile. It had splashed up across the door and some had even managed to get on Freddy’s legs. Another laugh echoed and then footsteps receding.

-

“I never really took the time to question why you were helping me these past few months but I feel like now is as good a time as any to finally ask.”

Trees and houses zipped by in a blur out the car window. Mike tried not to focus on them too much for fear of carsickness. Instead he turned his head to face Clay in the driver’s seat whose gaze was intensely set on the road ahead. 

Clay shook his head. “Couldn’t give you an exact answer, to be honest. Just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Mike scoffed.

“Well, let’s see. A young kid--”

“Not a kid but thanks.”

“--wakes up alone with no memory and hardly any cognitive function in a hospital and I have to be the one to investigate his case. What do you think, I’m just gonna abandon him? That’s not really how I operate things, Mike.”

“I guess so. I don’t know. It’s just strange circumstances, I suppose.”

“Sometimes they are. But that’s why we keep trying. I’m not one to drop cases so easily. Plus, I see a lot of my son in you. I pictured him being in your place and knew that if it were, I would have done absolutely everything I could to help him. So I did, but with you.”

Mike stayed silent the rest of the car ride, staring down at his feet for most of it. The town streets turned into neighborhoods and he cast his gaze out the window momentarily. He could just faintly hear the squealing of children and at one of the houses on the right, a group of children were out in the yard. Though he only saw it for a brief moment as they passed, he could see two children, a clearly wide age gap between them. The older kid was holding something, a favored toy perhaps, his arm stretched up as high as he could while the younger shouted something and attempted to jump up and grab it to no avail. For some reason the scene made his heart ache as much as his head suddenly did. He winced and put a hand to his temple, turning his head away to once again face the floor.

They pulled up to the house not much later. Mike stepped out and looked up at the tree standing in the front yard, the branches moving in the wind. He wasn’t sure how long he’d actually been staring before he walked into the house, carrying a single bag of clothes. Inside, it was silent.

“Feel free to look around. Make yourself at home. We’ll set you up down in the basement.” Clay said as he walked through a door and into the kitchen, out of sight.

Mike tried not to mull in the entryway too long but he wanted to take everything in. He made his way slowly between the different rooms. In the living room, he dragged his hand along the back of the patterned couch as he passed. Everything had a sort of clutter to it. Cups were clustered on the coffee table beside magazines and newspapers. A few pairs of shoes were hastily set to the side underneath a full rack of coats. The dining room table looked like it hadn’t been used for its intended purpose in who knows how long, the surface covered in an assortment of items that were clearly set down and forgotten.

In front of the door leading to the office he stopped. Peering in, he could see the desk covered with papers. Despite not knowing the cause, he felt a twist in his stomach at the thought of going in there. He moved on. The door to the basement was slightly open. Descending the stairs, it opened up into a man cave-esque area with a couch and a TV. The ceiling was opened, exposing the piping and electrical wiring of the house above. Something about it made him incredibly uncomfortable but he couldn’t quite figure out why. Off to the right, a small hallway led to three closed doors. 

An overwhelming sensation came over him as he looked between the three doors. He continually turned to each of them until he started getting vertigo. The doors all opened at the same time, the places they led dark and daunting. From the endless void, coils and wires appeared and stretched themselves in all directions. There was an audible groan as the pipes above bent and twisted downwards, the wires snapping and sending sparks flying in all directions. Along the walls and floor they twisted and stretched, heading straight for him. His breathing quickened but he felt frozen with fear. A set of glowing white eyes appeared at the door directly in front of him, a deep laugh bellowing from within.

“Mike?”

He jumped and turned around to see Clay walking towards him from the bottom of the stairs. “You ok?”

When he looked back at the doors, they were all closed. It wasn’t real. His heart still pounded but he forced his breathing to steady and he nodded. Clay walked past him and opened one of the doors. Mike convinced himself of the stupidity of his fear and followed him inside. A small bedroom.

“You can stay here for now until you really feel like you’re back on your feet.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t know how long that’s gonna take…”

“Of course I’m sure. You’re gonna need time. I’m here to help.”

“Well, thanks.”

Of course the help was much appreciated, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. How was he supposed to feel about it? A complete stranger was offering him kindness. Somehow it felt like some foreign thing he couldn’t remember, not only due to the massive gap in his memories. He couldn’t sleep for a long time that night. The mental images of the pipes crushing him, the wires choking him, was too overwhelming. For hours he tossed and turned, feeling like he shouldn’t be where he was at all. Burying his head beneath the pillow and forcing his eyes shut, he managed to at last drift off for a short time. But his dreams were plagued with nightmares he didn’t understand and faces he couldn’t remember. Something was very wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU. It exists in its own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

* * *

_"Slow down, Michael! You’re gonna fall!” A voice scolded behind him. But of course he didn’t listen. The gravel shifted and clacked beneath his feet as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him towards the diner. He didn’t let up the momentum and his hands smacked against the glass of the door as soon as he reached it. The handle was just slightly too high for him to get a proper grip on it. His first barrier. He pressed his face against the clear paneling in an attempt to see inside. Eventually the sound of footsteps was just behind him and an arm reached out to open the door for him. Before it was even open all the way, he squeezed between the space and resumed his sprinting down the entry hall and into the main dining room. There were a handful of families in there already. Mostly parents sitting at the tables while their kids ran wild through the restaurant. Michael ignored all of them, his focus was the stage. The big red curtain was pulled closed, his disappointment showed on his face. His gaze swept the room as his brain worked out the puzzle of where to look first. In his distraction, he was suddenly swept up and off his feet and thrown over the shoulder of a big yellow rabbit. The rabbit didn’t say anything as he began walking off towards the direction of a set of double red doors located near the entrance. Michael giggled and kicked his feet in a not so hard attempt to get free. He let himself go limp, his face pressing against the soft yellow fur. Jokes on him, it had been at least an hour since he wiped his nose. On the other side of the doors was the storage closet. It was actually rather large for being a closet, with shelves and tables scattered with machinery pieces and tools as well as mascot heads in a similar style to the one of the yellow rabbit. Michael was set down gently so that he was sitting on the edge of the table, kicking his feet as they dangled over the side. The rabbit took a step back, doing a perfect pirouette and landing with an arm outstretched. Michael laughed and clapped his hands. Straightening his posture, the rabbit reached up and with a few careful turns, pulled the suit head off, tucking it under his arm. Michael didn’t stop laughing._

-

Mike was jolted awake abruptly with a twinge of pain like he could sense a headache coming on. The dream was already beginning to fade from his memory, replaced instead with a sudden shock of fear as he looked up at the exposed ceiling of the basement. “Oh, fuck!” He cried and rolled to the side, falling off the edge of the bed and landing hard on his back. He struggled for a moment to untangle himself from the blankets before he sprinted towards the basement stairs. His steps fell heavy as he ran like some unseen force was after him. It certainly felt like there was. Once he reached the top, throwing open the door and standing at ground level, he stooped forward to catch his breath. As he calmed, he became aware of the pleasant scent of food wafting through the air. Carefully he straightened himself, his spine having painfully stiffened. He winced and put a hand to his back as he made his way through to try and find the kitchen. 

Clay was at the stove, a spatula in one hand while with the other he held the handle of a sizzling pan. Whether or not he’d heard the frenzied running from the basement, he made no reaction to it. He turned his head as Mike entered and gave a wide smile. “Good morning.”

“Mmhmm, sure.” Mike walked off to the side and leaned against the counter, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“How did you sleep?” Clay inquired as he pushed a plate over next to Mike. It _looked_ like a plate of bacon but half the pieces were burnt black.

He tried not to display his disgust as he tentatively took a piece and shrugged. “Well, I assume you want my totally honest opinion. All those months of physical therapy, I still feel like shit every morning. Tired, too.”

Clay nodded though it was probably more out of sympathy than empathy. “Do you like coffee?”

“I...don’t actually know. But I’ll gladly try some.”

Setting the pan to the side and turning the oven off, Clay walked over to the machine at the corner of the counter. A few minutes later he was holding a steaming mug which he passed off to Mike.

Looking into the cup for a long moment, he contemplated the action. Finally he took a sip of the coffee, his face immediately scrunching up. “Oh, this sucks.” He lifted the cup and took another drink.

Clay chuckled at the reaction. “I’ll be sure to make enough for both of us to have in the mornings then.” He stepped away from the counter, looking around and patting his pockets as if double checking he had everything. “Not to cut our conversation so short but I do have to head off to the station now. I suppose if you need anything, there’s a phone in the office, you still have that card I gave you, right?”

It seemed strange to Mike that he was being left alone in a stranger’s house but he was in no position to argue. He nodded at Clay’s question but in all honesty he hadn’t touched the card since the first time he’d called when he was still in the hospital. It didn’t seem as important now.

“Alright then. I should be back in the evening. See you later, sport. I-I mean, Mike, sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I got to properly take my leave with someone here. I- I’m just gonna go now. Have a good day.” He rushed out of the room and the house before he could embarrass himself anymore.

Mike couldn’t deny it was sort of uplifting to be called sport, though still a bit odd. He must really miss his son. With Clay now gone, there was a silence in the house that he hadn’t quite realized before. He would need to find things to do on his own. Mostly he just continued wandering through the house. He still couldn’t bring himself to go into the office but there were other rooms to explore. He paid closer attention to the framed family photos on walls and in bedrooms. 

Most were clustered collages depicting fond memories of vacations, camping trips, and child birthday parties. A few however, were family photos, posed in some studio with pristine outfits and clear smiles directed at the camera. Mike spent an extra long time looking at one in particular, picking the photo up from the shelf to examine it closer. Did he have a family like that at one time or another? No one had come to claim him while he was in hospital and no one had been able to find any current familial connections. All trails or signs of whatever family he’d had in the past seemed to lead to dead ends. His empty memories also provided no help in any of the searches. He stared until his heart physically ached and he set the photo back on the shelf, moving instead back into the living room.

The next few hours he spent on the couch mindlessly flipping through the TV channels until he found one to settle on and watch. Still, he kept the sound rather low, just needing something to do and a whitenoise to fill the emptiness. Occasionally he caught himself slowly turning to look over at the entrance of the living room. An unexplained fear crept in, the same way he felt when he’d woken up staring at the exposed piping of the basement. Like he expected at any moment for a figure to walk through the door though he knew there wasn’t a possibility for someone else to be in the house. Shifting uncomfortably, he opted instead to lay on his side, positioning himself so he couldn’t see the door in his peripheral. Though forced, he at last relaxed.

The silence was cut through with the sound of the front door opening and closing and Mike sat up. He relaxed for a moment with the thought it was probably just Clay returning from work but sat up again when he realized Clay wouldn’t be home for at least another couple hours. He got up, leaving the TV on as he left the room to follow the sound of steps now heading up the stairs. Moving as quietly as possible, taking each step with extra caution, he followed. He saw the figure just ahead of him, having stopped in the doorway of one of the bedrooms and he walked closer. “Uh, hello?”

Clearly startled, the stranger let out a yelp and whipped around, immediately swinging a fist and hitting Mike square in the nose. 

Stumbling back, there was a wave of dizziness and he shook his head to clear it. Now Mike could get a better look at the person. He was roughly the same height though maybe an inch shorter and wore a long sleeve shirt under an oversized striped t-shirt with dark cargo pants. He had a head of shaggy ginger hair, a short beard, and a splash of freckles that framed brilliant blue eyes. He was saying something, panicked apologizing in a frenzied tone, but Mike wasn’t really paying attention to it as he just stared. 

“I definitely didn’t mean to do that. You just startled me.” He stopped suddenly and furrowed his brow. “Wait a second, who even are you?”

Mike was startled out of his thoughts as he realized he’d been asked a question. “What?”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Putting a hand up to his nose, sure enough it was instantly wet with the blood that he hadn’t even realized was dripping down onto the front of his shirt. “Oh, shit.” He put both hands up to his face and rushed off to the bathroom.

“Hey, wait!” The stranger called out and pursued. 

Once in the bathroom, Mike flipped on the light with his elbow and grabbed tissues, using them to catch the blood as he pinched his nose. “God, you got me good,” he chuckled lightly, looking at the stranger through the reflection in the mirror before leaning forward over the sink. “You always introduce yourself to people by hitting them in the face?”

The man leaned against the doorframe, slipping his hands into his pockets. “God, no, I’m not even a violent person I just-- look this is getting off track. Who are you and what are you doing in my dad’s house?”

“Your dad’s house? No, this is my house. Maybe you have the wrong place?”

The stranger paled and he began looking around wildly. “No, wait, really? Oh god, I-”

Mike laughed. “I’m totally fucking with you. Are you Clay’s kid, what was it, Carlos?”

“Carlton.”

“That’s a relief. You don’t look like a Carlos. I’m Mike.” 

Mike threw away the tissue now coated with blood and grabbed a fresh one. He turned on the faucet to wash the drops of blood off the side of the sink before leaving the bathroom and heading back down the stairs.

Carlton continued to follow. “I pitted you as being more of a David. Good to know it’s even more normal than I was guessing. Is that a fake name?”

“Don’t think so. Guess I am just, unfortunately, normal as can be.”

“Still doesn’t answer the question of what you’re doing in my dad’s house.”

“Ah, you’ll have to take that up with him.” Down in the basement, Mike felt a little more comfortable having someone else there as he stepped into what was considered his room.

Carlton took a moment to look around, his eyes scanning over Mike’s meager belongings. He jumped slightly when he realized Mike was looking at him, holding a clean shirt tightly in his left hand. Understanding the context clues, he gave a nod and stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as the door was closed and Mike was alone once more, he immediately took off the now blood stained shirt. He was careful not to get anymore fresh blood on the fabric, though it seemed his nose bleed was beginning to clear up. The adornment of thick scars all along his arms and torso were visible and he would be ashamed to admit he felt embarrassed just looking at them by himself, let alone running the risk of having someone else see them. There may have been scars always visible on his face, snaking up the side of his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, and a few around his mouth; but the ones on the rest of him were different. The still healing indent of the gash started at the base of his stomach and travelled all the way up until it tapered off just above his collarbone. Whatever accident had caused the empty void of his memories, he didn’t like the feelings it brought. The emotions were unbearable mixed with the confusion of never knowing why.

Quickly he slipped the clean shirt on--a solid colored pullover-- and shook out his mess of brown curls before opening the door once again. The two spent a good few hours talking and watching shows on the basement TV. They started getting to know each other--Carlton asking all the questions he’d wanted to and Mike answering all that he could--until at last Clay returned. They hadn’t even realized the time that had passed before Clay was at the bottom of the stairs, his entrance unseen, and at last cleared his throat, startling them both.

The three made their way back upstairs where Clay began cooking dinner though Carlton insisted on doing most of it and Mike could tell it was because he knew what a terrible cook his dad was.

Clay stated his pleasant surprise at Carlton’s turning up out of the blue to which Carlton replied saying that he had finished what he’d wanted to on the west coast and now he was moving back to his hometown in a sort of transition period. From here he would be taking a break to decide if he wanted to continue on the way he was going or branch out to try something new. At this, Clay seemed ecstatic. With how much he constantly talked about him, he seemed to really enjoy the idea of his son being back home.

Mike couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two interact. Silently he wondered if he had ever had good memories like that with his dad. Whoever he was and wherever he might be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU. It exists in its own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

* * *

There was no beginning and no end to the empty expanse of darkness that were his nightly dreams. He would open his eyes, seeing the same emptiness that lingered at the edges of his mind--even when he was awake--and he would start walking. There was no destination, nothing he was aiming for, and no way of really knowing whether or not he was making any progress, but he’d put one foot in front of the other and hear the echoing of his own footsteps all around him. Occasionally mixed in was the distant sound of voices. Some were clearer than others. Blurry figures danced all about his peripheral vision but would vanish in a wisp of smoke whenever he turned his head towards them.

Whether or not he truly dreamed, he was never sure. When he awoke--eyes often full of tears, and a weighted feeling in his chest--the last remaining bits of whatever he’d seen vanished with the rising sun. It was a frustrating predicament but one he was very much used to. 

Carlton would often spend mornings explaining his dreams in as much detail as he could remember. He used his arms to emphasize what he was saying, seeming to put his whole body into the story itself. Mike would listen, nodding along as if he understood though he clearly did not. Whenever Mike was asked what his dreams were like he would simply shrug, stating he couldn’t remember. After a while, Carlton stopped asking.

The days turned into weeks turned into months. Eventually he was content with the idea of having a fresh start. It was at first a hard thing to accept as he so desperately wanted to know more about himself and his past. He’d always heard that familiar places and sights and even smells could help jog his memory. But nothing ever triggered the surfacing of anything before his waking in the hospital. Eventually his therapist advised that maybe it was all for the best and it would be better for him to take the opportunity to make new, happy memories. So he did. 

He grew closer to Carlton and eventually moved in with him, secretly happy to be out of living in Clay’s basement. It was nice being able to wake up without a churning anxiety in the pits of his stomach as he stared up at that exposed ceiling, imagining the choking sensation of being buried alive. The townhome was small, crammed into a packed street close to the center of town. They didn’t have much in terms of scenery but they were within walking distance of most of the major buildings. The town itself was small enough that Mike could walk a circle around the whole thing in a single day. 

He found new hobbies that interested him. He made new friends who had similar interests to him. People he trusted and cared for and who put their care and trust in him. There was a feeling of comfort that blocked out the shadows of fear that always seemed to creep in. All in all things were going good and there was no longer a reason for him to even look into what his life was before. There was plenty to occupy him from those thoughts or the headaches they brought. Eventually, he was even able to get a job. Though this situation did not last long.

He parked his car and headed across the dark lot towards the building silhouetted against the night sky. His job was at a distribution warehouse a few miles out from the outskirts of town. It was a decent job, all things considered. Mostly just moving crates and machinery onto a truck to be delivered out to places he didn’t bother, or care, to know. At least he didn’t have to drive the truck. 

Clocking in for his shift, he headed through the central building and into the main warehouse. During the day, the place was always bustling with workers going to and fro across the large room. Like a colony of ants making the whole workplace run smoothly. The night crew was much smaller, a mere handful of guys mostly there to take inventory and top off the trucks. It was a very critical and meticulous job.

Even before Mike had walked up to the others, all mingling around a table at the side, he could see the already empty beer bottles scattered along its surface. Each of them also held an open one. 

“Late again Mikey boy?” A taller fellow sneered and took a drink from the bottle in his hand. 

His name was Larson though everyone in the building just called him Lars. The two had a very mutual dislike of each other. Lars was cocky and seemed to constantly be glaring at Mike or giving him a condescending smile whenever the boss wasn’t around. Something else he did when the boss wasn’t around was drinking.

Mike wasn’t one for drinking. The act never appealed to him. The one time he had tried to drink something, his body had viciously rejected it and he wasn’t very eager to go through that again. He wasn’t a snitch either so the others were comfortable drinking around him knowing he wouldn’t tell and he was sober enough to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid. For that reason, Mike couldn’t blame being drunk for what he did or why he couldn’t even remember doing it. 

The night had seemed normal. Pretty tame as far as Mike could tell. He’d done his usual avoiding Lars as best as possible, cracking jokes with the other workers while they cracked open more beers. After a few hours moving boxes and machinery around, going over schedules and checklists, they decided to stop for a much needed break. All gathered in the breakroom. 15 minutes of friendly chatter passed. Mike tried to ignore the eyes fixated on him or the sly smile they were paired with. One by one they all headed back out into the main area until it was just Lars and Mike left.

He couldn’t even remember what was said. He just remembered the hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he could leave, the slurred words spitting hate in Mike’s face like venom, the howling laughter that was more irritating than nails on a chalkboard. The deep-seated annoyance and anger built up inside him. It festered and coiled until it felt like something that just wasn’t him was suddenly in control of his thoughts and his motions. He didn’t remember picking up the empty bottle nor did he remember swinging it hard against Lars’ forehead. He didn’t remember swinging it again and again until it at last shattered into many pieces. He only came to when the others had run back in and dragged him off and away. He caught a glimpse of the still and bleeding form on the ground before he was pulled through the door. He sat on the floor, the others keeping an eye on him while one called an ambulance.

The car ride home from the police station was completely silent. The tenseness felt like a thick fog threatening to suffocate him. Mike kept his gaze fixed out the passenger side window. Even when the usual feeling of car sickness washed over him, he didn’t dare a look to Carlton. He refused to see the anger and disappointment on his face. The way he took corners a little too fast, made stops a little too suddenly, Mike didn’t want to risk him getting angry and flipping the car. So he opted instead to brave the silence. When they got home, Mike hurried inside, sitting down on the couch and throwing his head against the back cushions with a contented sigh.

Carlton leaned against the entrance to the living room, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t tap his foot, and at first he didn’t say anything at all. Simply stared at Mike with a look that said it all. No longer able to avoid it, Mike slowly lifted his gaze to look at Carlton.

Finally the silence was broken. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?” Carlton asked, his voice harsh.

Mike paused a moment then shrugged.

“Really, that’s it? A shrug? I had to bail you out of jail, idiot! With, may I add, the money I had been saving so my friends could visit. And all you can think to explain is a shrug?” Carlton moved his arms when he ranted, the same way he did when explaining dreams.

“I mean, at least I had you to get me out of that situation. Can’t really say the same for the other guys and their whole deal.”

“Jesus Christ, Mike. One of the ‘other guys’ is in the  _ hospital!  _ Because of  _ you! _ What the hell were you even doing?”

He couldn’t explain it. How could he? He couldn’t even explain it to himself. 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I don’t know! Ok? I really don’t. We were just...he started talking shit and I..I don’t know! Something came over me and I hit him.”

“You hit him?”

“Yeah.”

“With what?”

Mike stopped, pressing his lips together and lowering his gaze to the floor. “Glass bottle.”

“Oh my god.”

“Look, ok I get it, I know I fucked up. It’s not like I’m proud of what I did.” He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

“Well I sure hope you’re not,” Carlton stated flatly before exiting the room, heading upstairs, and leaving Mike to sulk in the sullen silence for minutes longer.

\--

“Ah man. You sure did fuck up this time, huh, pal?” Nate asked, blocking his laughter with the newspaper he held in his hand and peering over the top.

Mike groaned and put his head in his hands. “You have no idea.”

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m not the one that can’t even remember beating the shit out of a guy with a bottle. Did I get that right?”

Dragging his hands down his face, he looked up at Nate with a sullen expression.“To a T.” 

“I mean, geez, Mike. I know you had that memory loss thing from a while ago but is it really a current problem for you as well?”

Mike shook his head. “That’s the thing that gets me. It’s never been a problem before.” He stopped suddenly, furrowing his brows as if trying to remember back. “Well, I mean, sometimes...I don’t know. Sometimes there are moments where I just get so angry and it feels like I’m not thinking for myself. Like something just takes over. But I just assumed that was something everyone felt. I’ve never reacted this violently as a result.”

“I think everyone gets that way sometimes. You’re a good man, Mike. I’m sure you didn’t mean what you did. And you’re sure you weren’t drunk?”

“Not a drop.”

“Well, nothing you can do about it now. So what’s the deal with your job?”

“Well, thanks to Carlton I don’t have to worry about jail time. Lars’ family isn’t pressing charges either. By some miracle, his condition is apparently not critical. As long as I got some sort of punishment, they were fine. But I did get fired. So did everyone else on shift that night for drinking. I wasn’t really friends with any of them anyway, but I feel like they probably all hate me now. The thing I’m most feeling guilty about is Carlton. He’d been saving up that money and he was so excited about it. I feel like I should be making it up to him somehow.”

“Well if you’re in desperate need of a job, the restaurant is always looking for more staff. They’ll hire pretty much anybody. No judgement on past mistakes.”

Mike grimaced.

“It’s not  _ all  _ dealing with children all day. With your, um, history of violence they might not even let you near the kids. But you’re a strong guy. Maybe they’ll put you on night shift security.”

“Night shift is the schedule I’m used to anyway.”

“There you go! Here, you got a marker?”

“Uhhh,” Mike looked around, the first thing he found being a red marker which he quickly grabbed and passed to Nate.

Nate flipped quickly through the newspaper in hand until he landed on a specific page. He circled something amongst a list of different job advertisements, then tore it out and passed it off to Mike. “Call the number. You can tell them that I recommended you and I’ll vouch for you being a good worker. What do you have to lose?”

Mike raised a brow at his friend but after a moment he nodded. Alright, I’ll give it a shot. Thanks, Nate.”

“Anything to support a friend.” He stood up, gently hitting Mike on the shoulder with the newspaper. “Gotta bounce. See you later man. Call the number.” With that, Nate headed out. 

The closing front door echoed through the house. Mike leaned forward, resting his chin on the cool kitchen counter. His eyes drifted to the piece of paper still laid out just next to him. Lifting his head, he picked it up, leaning back in his chair to examine it closer. The ad was simple, they certainly didn’t put much of their money towards any sort of fancy graphic design. He tried his hardest to read what it actually said but he couldn’t seem to look away from the picture. 

The main animatronic, Freddy Fazbear himself, was pictured seemingly mid performance. His wide plastic eyes gazed upwards, his mouth hanging open just slightly, one hand holding his microphone close to his chest, and his other hand was waving at some unseen audience. Though the picture was in the usual black ink against off-white paper background, he could imagine the piercing blue of the eyes. He wasn’t sure how he knew they were blue. But an image tugged at the back of his mind. The eyes came through the static of his empty memories and he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen it before. A sudden sharp pain in his head made him wince.

Setting the ad back down on the counter, he headed off across the house and into the main bathroom. Quickly digging through the first drawer, he pulled out a small white bottle, the pain pills inside were a more vibrant color in contrast. Grabbing the cup at the edge of the sink, he filled it with water and took a few of the pills. The pain did not immediately subside but the thought was comforting. He leaned on the edge of the counter and for many minutes simply stared at himself in the mirror. Maybe if he stared into his own eyes long enough he’d see some sort of shift in them. Something changing, moving, to provide some sort of confirmation that something wasn’t right with him. That whatever had come over him to make him do what he did, it wasn’t him.

Nothing happened and he left the bathroom feeling the same turmoil inside him. By that point the pain pills had started to work and very slowly his headache went away. He picked up the ad once more and headed over to the kitchen phone. Forcing himself to focus on the words, he put in the number displayed at the bottom of the page. Nate was right. What did he have to lose?

\---

"Well Mr. Schmidt, I think that about concludes this interview. We'll be in touch with you soon about any open positions we may have."

"Thank you." Mike stood up and walked out the door. 

The industrial strength doors didn’t provide much of a barrier between the office and the hallway, leaving whatever questions and answers had been discussed to anyone willing to step closer and listen. It seemed strange that they would need such watertight doors, unless they were seriously worried about flooding, and even stranger that it seemed to only be used for the back office, which was quite a trek from the entrance to get through. He tried not to let this bother him as he made his way back through the building.

It was strange seeing this place after hours. From what he’d heard, Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria was usually bustling with children running around, parents chatting at tables, various arcade games being played, and a stage lit up and full of life. Now it was mostly empty, on the far side of the dining hall someone was sweeping under a table while another stepped backwards through the swinging kitchen doors with a bucket of table garbage. The animatronics on stage had their heads lowered with their plastic eyelids closed as if they were sleeping. No music, no arcade games, it was actually kind of peaceful. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with children or whatever horrendous monstrosities of food they decided to vomit up inside the ball pit.

The sky outside was turning orange with the setting sun. He quickly reached his car and drove home.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, he went through the stack of newspaper ads sitting in front of him, crossing out the ones who had denied him and putting question marks next to the ones still to decide, though he wasn’t very hopeful they actually would. The denied stack was definitely bigger. Despite Nate’s constant nagging, he hadn’t actually wanted to go through with fully applying at Fazbear’s, purposefully setting an interview date that was farther out to give him time to look for other places to apply. Eventually he wasn’t given much of a choice. Maybe if he was lucky they'd hire him. He still didn't think it would be that hard. It didn’t seem to him like anyone would really need any major qualifications to watch cameras except knowing how to press buttons and not be uncomfortable with cramped spaces.

The front door opened and Mike jumped to his feet, cramming the papers into the nearest drawer and throwing a jacket on over the clean pressed shirt he wore for interviews, turning around right as Carlton walked in. It seemed stupid, but he didn’t want Carlton to know which jobs he was looking for or which one he got. He wanted to make it a surprise when he saved enough money to pay him back for bailing him out that night. Things between them had seemingly gone back to normal after a few days but Mike couldn’t deny the weighted guilt in his chest whenever he looked at Carlton. There was the elephant in the room that neither wanted to discuss. But at least Mike got to hear his laugh again.

The call back from the pizzeria came the very next morning. Mike couldn’t help but notice how soon it had come--not even a full 24 hours-- but he also remembered Nate saying they were looking for workers, specifically night security. Pretty desperate, in his opinion. He went in that afternoon to be trained on procedures and the equipment. As expected, it was relatively simple and mostly involved pressing big labeled buttons. The dress code was flexible as well. The only requirements were a light colored button up, non-ripped jeans, and comfortable shoes, all of which he was supposed to provide for himself. He was, however, given a jacket that said ‘Security’ on the back. It was a little big on him but not by much. He left after no more than 30 minutes spent, and returned late in the evening in full uniform for his first shift.

Seeing the place at closing time was strange, seeing it now was even stranger. There wasn’t a sound besides his own steps and not another soul in the building but his own. He had to make his way to the office via flashlight. The rooms he passed were almost unnaturally dark as there weren't any windows besides the ones at the main entrance. Once in the office, he was able to work his hand along the back wall until he found the light switch, the yellow light in the small room coming on with a flash and a low hum. At the same time, the fan on the desk switched on, letting out a steady stream of cool air. Despite being early November, the lingering summer heat still kept a grip on the town, especially in the room where there wasn’t much in terms of air flow. 

A locker in the back corner held a bar where a few pieces of clothing were hanging. On the bottom deck were some stained papers, old soda cups, and what he could only hope was the liquid from a spilled kool aid. The whole thing smelled of mildew and spoiled milk. He decided his bag was probably safer under the desk where there was only dust, cobwebs, and a few crumpled papers. At least it was dry.

He sat down at the desk chair. It was an old beat up swivel chair that groaned under his weight, leaned back a little too far, and was missing a wheel, causing it to scrape against the tile floor as it moved. The singularity of long scratch marks just in front of the big metal desk made obvious the years of use. Something about this scene before him was vaguely familiar and it once again brought about a new round of headaches. Wincing, he reached forward and pulled his bag closer to him, taking more of his pain pills with some water. As he pushed his bag back to its place with his foot, gently massaging his temples with his hands, something under the desk caught his eye. He tried to lean forward enough to see but it was closer to the wall, tucked just under the space between the ground and the drawers. With a sigh, he moved off the chair, crouching down on his hands and knees to see it. The moment his hand touched the ground, he immediately pulled it away, now covered in a mysterious sticky liquid. With a grimace, he wiped it on the front of his jeans and crouched down again, this time making sure to avoid the sticky spot. He reached a hand under the desk, through the cobwebs and dust bunnies to grab the object.

Sitting back in the chair, he examined the cassette tape now in his hands, coated in a thick layer of dust from who knows how long. He wiped it clean with his shirt, leaving a streak behind, but allowing him to better see the words written at the top that said ‘Security Training: Tape One.’ 

He glanced up at the monitor, the camera pointed at the mainstage and slowly moved from right to left. Nothing stirred in the darkness beyond the still robots. He began digging through whatever drawers were open until he found an old tape player. He shrugged, figuring it gave him something to do for at least a time. He put the tape in and hit play, listening to the quiet static that started the recording before it began playing what sounded like a ringing phone. Then he settled comfortably into his seat in front of the monitors to begin his first shift.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU. It exists in its own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

* * *

_The phone rang and rang, the sound reverberating around the office._  
 _He had his legs propped up on the edge of the desk, gripping the sides of the chair with his hands, and pushing himself back and forth, the wheels rolling smoothly over the tile. His little body just barely fit in the seat and he was slid down to the point that he was laying in it more than sitting. Eventually the phone stopped ringing, the message playing out loud as the machine recorded it. It sounded important but he never paid attention to what the grown ups had to say. It never concerned him so he didn’t care._  
 _The older he was getting, the more he simply just didn’t care. Even the restaurant was becoming less and less interesting to him. Where once he would spend hours, never wanting to leave, he now couldn’t wait to get out as quickly as possible. The characters were becoming nothing more than cartoons he didn’t enjoy watching anymore. He no longer wanted to be out in the dining room interacting with the guests and instead would rather have been in the office where it was quiet and he could think for himself. His childish fantasies paled in comparison to the reality of how the world was. Day by day, the one who was once the hero of his stories, was instead becoming the villain he was forced to live with._  
 _The chair was suddenly pulled out from under him, jerking backwards with enough force that he fell to the floor, closing his eyes and wincing as he hit. When he opened his eyes, he was staring up into a calm and collected face that made his stomach drop._  
 _“Michael. What did I tell you about the phone?” His voice was tame, but the intention was icy and malicious._  
 _“I-I-uh-”_  
 _“Get up.” The man straitened, giving Michael space to get to his feet. His dad walked over and played the message back. The silence between them was unbearable but Michael knew he couldn’t leave until he was instructed to do so. He braced for whatever was to come._  
 _The message ended and his dad again directed his attention back to Michael. “I’ll ask you again. What have I told you about the phone?”_  
 _“If it rings...I come get you.”_  
 _“And you didn’t this time because…?”_  
 _“I…”_  
 _His dad exhaled, looking downwards and suddenly his brow raised again._  
 _There on the floor, crossing two and a quarter of the checkerboard colored tiles, was a long scratch. It wasn’t deep but it was visible and most likely permanent and most likely happened when the chair was pulled out from under him._  
 _“Did you do that?”_  
 _“No, I-”_  
 _“Don’t lie to me, Michael.”_  
 _Michael remained silent. Why should he admit to something that wasn’t his fault? A hand was on the front of his collar, harshly pulling him forward and making him yelp, though whether it was from the pain of the cotton on his shirt chafing the back of the neck or from a fear of a pain he anticipated but hadn’t felt yet, he couldn’t say._  
 _But his dad didn’t do anything. He simply laughed. As if seeing his fear had been the only thing he really wanted. He let go of his collar abruptly and Michael took the opportunity to back away, out of his reach._  
 _“Remember what I told you about the phone.”_  
\---  
Mike’s panic was rising. Nothing got the adrenaline going quite like being told via dusty recording that the animatronics moved, and then seeing them do so. He’d been on shift about 3 hours now, 3 days into his first week. Time couldn’t seem to go by fast enough.   
His first shift had gone smoothly, all things considered. Despite what the man on the tapes--the voice he recognised to be the same man who had interviewed and trained him--had stated, the animatronics made no major moves towards him. But that brought little comfort to his mind. The fact that they moved at all, with him being the only living thing there alone in the darkness, brought an alarming sense of dread. Especially when they spoke, their voices echoing down the dark empty corridors, coaxing him to come out of hiding, to join them, to play. He didn’t like the implications of any of it.The tapes described mostly what he had already learned but added what before they had failed to mention:  
The animatronics move, and they move towards him.  
At first he thought the tape had been lying. The first few hours, the building remained still and quiet; but at around 3 AM, Bonnie moved. Slowly, with long careful strides across the screen as he travelled off the stage and circled the dining room. He never got much farther than that before the time struck 6 AM and he stepped back up onto the stage, resuming his normal day position as the manager came in for the shift change. Mike noticed the man’s expression upon seeing him was one of almost surprise. Like he was surprised Mike was still alive. But he couldn’t confirm that and he certainly didn’t want to ask. Afterall, it was a similar expression to the one he’d made when Mike had first walked into the office for an interview. Though, that was more of a face of surprised recognition that he never spoke up about.  
After leaving, Mike had gone home a bit stressed, and after thinking about it more, figured he’d probably imagined the whole thing. He slept through most of the next day due to the migraines, his head pounding hard enough that he almost felt like smashing it with a hammer would hurt less. The day was over and done quickly and it was once again time for his shift. He still hadn’t told Carlton he’d even gotten the job and he certainly wasn’t going to be telling him about it now and risk being not ever taken seriously again. Thankfully, he was always asleep by the time Mike was getting dressed in uniform and heading out the door.  
Second shift had gone pretty similar to the first, all things considered. There was another, new tape where the other one had been, this time labeled ‘Security Training: Tape 2’ in the same pen. Despite it definitely not being there the night before, it was covered in a thick layer of dust like the first one had been. Almost like the tape had never been touched in a very long time. Only Chica and Bonnie moved that night and they still remained mostly at the far side of the building. All in all, things had been going fine.  
Now it was the third night and things could not be going less fine.  
It was like someone had hit a switch and now suddenly everything was going wrong. There was yet another tape in the same spot behind the desk, covered in dust, giving him more advice that only aided in solidifying the current fear in the back of his mind. The hour of activity moved up, they became active sooner. He was sloppy, losing sight of the animatronics multiple times and just barely managing to locate them before they moved again. They had already come close to the office, continuing to coax and to mock him with their aging and crackling voice boxes, to which Mike had slammed the doors shut to keep them out. They moved on after some time. He couldn’t prove that they would do as the tapes told him, but he certainly didn’t want to risk finding out in case the warnings were true. The thought of getting forcefully stuffed in one of those stinky suits was not a pleasant one. He was fine in his current skin, he didn’t need a new one.   
Flipping to the next camera he jumped at the sight of a new set of piercing white eyes staring at him from beyond the purple curtains.  
“Coming to join the party, Foxy?” He mumbled aloud, making a mental note to keep an eye on the animatronic fox for the night. A loud bang drew his attention instead and he switched to the kitchen camera to listen for Chica rummaging through the dishes. As soon as he switched it, a high pitched ringing emanated from it, causing him to slam his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise. In the dark feed of the broken, audio-only camera, there was an outline of a Freddy plush, the bright eyes staring at him through the static. But somehow in the distortion it looked yellow, not brown. It was familiar and yet seemed so wrong. The incessant noise continued, layered over the sound of a child’s laughter, and he backed away from the monitor. Shutting his eyes, his knees shook and finally gave out. His vision swam and his head pounded with more intensity than he had ever felt, causing tears to pour down his cheeks. He collapsed to the floor, with a cry of anguish and suddenly everything went black, still hearing the high pitched laughter.  
\----  
 _Mike opened his eyes and found himself standing in an empty void. There was an endless expanse of darkness that stretched in every direction all around him. Nothing about it would give any indication he had been here before and yet he had the sneaking suspicion he’d been here many times before. And just like before, he turned in a random direction and began walking. There was a laugh off to his left and when he turned, he saw a bear plush. Now he knew for sure it was yellow, its bowtie and hat a vibrant purple in contrast. He couldn’t tell if the eyes were hollow or if they were simply painted black, but the singular pinprick of white that were its pupils glowed as it looked at him, like they were in a standoff. Curious, Mike walked closer. But just as he was about to reach down and pick it up, it fizzled out and vanished, only to suddenly reappear a little ways away, still staring at him. Mike walked towards it again, following it like a candy trail until suddenly he was walking through a hallway, the plush gone completely._  
 _Michael stopped and looked around. Before him stretched a seemingly miles-long hall of doors, unable to see the end. Looking behind, it was a mirror image of what was in front, like the void he’d been walking through only a moment before didn’t exist at all. The floor was carpeted and the walls were covered in a light floral wallpaper that stretched from floor to ceiling. Unsure of where to start first, he decided to just go through the one immediately to his right. The doorknob turned easily and he stepped through, hearing it click shut behind him._  
 _He found himself standing in a bedroom, the furniture painted in vibrant colors. By the array of toys positioned in different places around the room, he imagined this must be a child’s room. The dresser drawers were all empty, providing no more proof of whose room this was, but he couldn’t shake the familiarity of it all. A memory was certainly there somewhere in his mind he just couldn’t reach. A laugh echoed around the room and his head turned to the closet, swearing he saw a tail disappear behind the veil of the white doors before they closed again. Walking slowly towards it, images flashed in his mind of a hideous monster waiting beyond, teeth bared with sharp claws that could, and would, dig into his flesh. It would tear through his like he was simply made of dough, like his form was a falsehood masquerading as a human._  
 _With both hands he threw open the doors and braced for what was to come. The closet was empty. The laugh came again and this time when he turned around there was a teddy bear on the bed. It was the same bear he had followed before, yellow with a purple bow tie and top hat, but it certainly had not been there a moment before. This time when he walked up to it, it didn’t vanish. The eyes continued to follow him as he approached, picking it up to examine it closer._  
 _Suddenly Michael could remember it. He had seen this bear before. This was a bedroom he recognized, that he knew he’d been in before. He could picture himself, much younger, standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest. This was a room in his house. A dark shadow fell over him and the plush, hardly giving him time to even turn around, let alone cry out in fear before a huge clawed hand grabbed his throat, crushing his windpipe. The bear’s laughter was deep and echoing in his head. Michael tried to gasp for breath, the blood gurgling in the back of his throat and spilling out of his mouth. All he saw was a flash of yellow fur and the piercing red and white eyes before his vision darkened again, his hand at last losing grip on the plush bear._  
\---  
Mike felt himself slowly coming out of unconsciousness. He had to blink a few times to clear his blurry vision and when at last he could see, he found a pair of empty dead eyes were staring right back at him. His immediate reaction was to scream and scramble backwards until his back hit the wall. The eyes followed his movement. A yellow rabbit, or what seemed to be one despite the horrendous state it was in, crouched on the floor above where he just was. Its gaze followed Mike as he moved away and it shifted so it was sitting on the floor, crossing its legs like a child. The smell coming off it suddenly hit Mike, making him gag and cover his nose and mouth with his hands. A mix of mold and decay.  
“Ugh, god. What the fuck are you?” But there was no response.  
The two stared at each other for roughly a minute before it even occurred to Mike that he wasn’t in the office anymore. The room around him was darker. In fact, the only light came from a single strip light hanging from the center of the room, managing only to illuminate the space below it in a fluorescent white light. Against one wall was a table full of tools, both recognizable and foreign. There was a cluster of shelves off to the side, like they had been put there temporarily for storage. Mike stood up, keeping his gaze firmly locked on the rabbit before slowly turning to sweep his gaze around the room.   
“Where are we?” No response. “Are you gonna try to kill me like the rest of them?”   
No response.  
“Well, I’m gonna take that as a maybe. So as thrilling as this conversation is, I’m just gonna go ahead and get the hell out of here.”   
He felt along the wall for where the door might be. After not being able to find it on the wall behind him, he moved on to the next. The table took up most of the space in front of it, but he took a look around it anyway. The tools on its surface were all rusted, having probably never been touched in much time. The scraps of metal and mechanics were designs he’d never seen before but figured similar pieces were probably somewhere beneath the soft, furred shells of the animatronics on stage. These too, were all rusted. He picked up a wrench and turned it over a few times before setting it back down. The rust residue left behind on his palm he wiped on his jeans. Still no luck finding an exit, he moved onto the next wall to look around. There were a few bare costume racks and the skeletons of old suit mannequins which were nothing more than metal ‘T’ shapes. The wall beyond was just as bare as the last two. No door knobs or exits of any kind to be seen. The last wall he could only barely see, the layers of shelves in front blocking his view. He could hardly manage to move one on his own but he was sure there wasn’t a door beyond there either. He was back where he started. The panic was rising in his chest.   
“Alright, what is this? A trick? Am I having a real world dream? How did I get here?” When he turned, he noticed the rabbit had moved. It was now standing and facing the cluster of shelves, its back to Mike. “Haha, very funny, Mr. Blair Witch Rabbit. You have a voice box, don’t you? Why don’t you be helpful and use it.”  
The rabbit walked forward, grabbing two of the side bars of one of the shelves and swinging it around to throw off behind it. The shelf missed Mike by a mere inch--who shouted, “hey, watch it!”-- and clattered against the wall. It did the same with two other shelves in the way. The wall they had been blocking was covered ceiling to floor with the word springtrap carved in. The etchings varied in sizes and spacing, some having obviously been carved over many times making in some cases the lines at least an inch deep.  
“Springtrap?” The word made the rabbit turn its head. “Is that your name?”  
At floor height, the words surrounded a large vent opening. Mike rushed forward, pressing his hands against the grate. He tried to peer in but found it was too dark to see. The door was held by screws in each corner but the two bottom ones were gone already and the top two were rusty and rotted. With great ease, he was able to simply pull the door off and set it to the side. He saw the dark vent opening and he got an overwhelming sense of Deja Vu. Flashes of images appeared in his head. The feeling of descending in an elevator, flash to a vent opening similar to this one, crawling through the dark, cold metal wrapped around his wrists.  
Mike felt a sharp twinge of pain in his head, making him wince, and step back. For a moment he stood with his head in his hands. Then he shook it out and crouched down, crawling on his hands and knees through the opening. Without a light to guide him, he moved slowly and cautiously, putting one hand out in front of him so he could feel whenever he hit a wall. He became aware of the sound of shifting metal behind him and he turned to see Springtrap crawling along behind him, a faint glow in its eyes being the only visible thing.  
“Hey, woah, who said you could come with?”   
In the cramped space, the smell of the rotting rabbit seemed even stronger and rather than sit there arguing with the mute thing, Mike kept going forward, if only to get out of there faster. The vents eventually came to a crossroads, giving him the choice of either continuing straight, going left or going right. He couldn’t really say he knew much about how vents worked but something about this felt like it was designed more to be a maze to purposefully get people lost rather than a way to filter airflow through the restaurant. Especially considering the fact they were big enough for both him and this bunny animatronic to be able to crawl through on hands and knees. He just hoped he wouldn’t accidentally run into wherever the big air filter was. While Mike pondered over the direction to go, a hand grabbed his ankle and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Springtrap was behind him, pointing towards the left. Mike hesitated as he looked down the tunnel, raising a brow at the rabbit. Without much of a choice of going anywhere else, he turned and headed the way he was directed.  
It was a straight shot back to the office. The vent entrance opened upwards like a swinging door but hit something before it could open all the way, blocked by the locker he’d looked in before. Springtrap tugged on Mike’s leg again and motioned for him to move out of the way. Mike pressed himself against the walls of the vent and backed up a little as he and Springtrap traded places. He held his breath as the rotting fur was pushed up against his chest and face.   
With the vent open as far as it would go, Springtrap was able to reach through and grab the legs of the locker. It took a few tries of jostling and Mike was starting to get light headed by the time it at last crashed to the floor and was easily pushed to the side. When the two had crawled out, Mike jumped to his feet and leaned against the wall, gasping in the fresh air. The monitor was still running and he quickly resumed his seat in front of it to continue his shift. Despite whatever he’d just experience, there was still the matter of four killer animatronics after him. He was quickly able to catch sight of their locations again.  
It was hard for him to focus, the thoughts of that hallway, the door leading to the bedroom, and the teddy bear he’d followed were all he could think about. It was the first thing he’d dreamed that he remembered. That teddy bear was important to him somehow. This place was important to him somehow. He just needed to find out what that somehow really was. His vision still swam and his head felt like a tv on a static channel.  
All at once, the animatronics stopped midaction. Mike flipped between the cameras to see what they would do next. In perfect synchronization, they slowly lifted themselves into an upright position, turning and walking in the opposite direction of the office. Foxy’s head retreated back into the shadows of Pirate’s Cove, the Out of Order sign swinging slowly in front of the purple curtain. The main 3 made their way back to the stage, assuming their default idle positions as if patiently awaiting that day’s shows to start already. Mike let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and noticed the clock on the wall displayed it to be past 6:00. He hadn’t even looked at the time, but his shift was over. There was a metallic clang that startled him and made him swing around. Springtrap was gone but Mike could hear him crawling his way back through the vent, presumably back to that room. He’d lifted the locker back into the position it had been before he left.  
An icon appeared on the corner of the screen, a yellow triangle that read ‘Front Door’. In the cameras he could see his boss there to take over work for him. Mike quickly stood up and gathered his belongings before rushing out the right hand office door. The two said a hasty “good morning” to each other but Mike was determined to get out as quickly as possible. He threw open the front doors, the cool morning air immediately hitting him and didn’t stop until he was sitting safely in his car.   
He sighed deeply and dragged his hands down his face, staring through the windshield for a few moments. He drove home. The further he got from the restaurant, the more his head began throbbing.  
The front door couldn’t open quick enough as Mike stumbled inside, catching himself on the door frame and looking around. The house was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamps illuminated through the windows facing the street. The sound of the TV pulled his attention but he couldn’t bring himself to walk any further. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it. His head pounded unbearably and he tried to focus his gaze to the ceiling if only to prevent himself from passing out. He thought he heard his name called out but it was warped and distant and he couldn’t quite make it out enough to focus on it. There was the sound of soft footsteps entering the room and he moved his gaze enough to focus on Carlton who looked at first happy and then concerned.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked, tentatively remaining where he was but holding Mike’s gaze steadily.  
Mike wasn’t sure how to respond at first, there was so much he could have said in that moment. But with his headache feeling like it could quite literally crack his skull with its insistent pounding, he just couldn’t find the words. The only thing he could picture was the teddy bear and his eyes began to fill with tears.   
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave a hoarse laugh as he responded, “I finally remembered something,” before his legs buckled beneath him and he crumpled to the floor. He blacked out completely for a moment as Carlton half led, half carried him into the living room and lay him down on the couch, retreating momentarily to the kitchen and returning a couple minutes later with a glass of water.  
Mike tried to explain what had happened, but he mumbled incoherent nonsense for most of it. Whether or not Carlton actually understood, he made no response as he patiently and quietly listened. After some time, he realized he had trailed off in the middle of a sentence without noticing and Carlton suggested maybe it was best if he just went to bed. Nodding slowly, he let himself be led quietly to the bedroom and was once again left alone to sleep. He felt the exhaustion slowly wash over him, collapsing on his bed as soon as he reached it. His head pounded and he covered it with a pillow as if to smother the pain.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU. It exists in its own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

* * *

_“You still haven’t remembered yet.”_ _Mike slowly opened his eyes, staring into the face of a little boy standing over his bed._  
 _The boy’s eyes were just visible under his thick brown hair, and his black shirt with two horizontal stripes cutting across it blended him into the shadows of the bedroom._  
 _Wishing instead he could go back to sleep, Mike groaned and asked, “What do you want, Evan?”_ _But who was Evan?_ _“_ _I have something to show you,” Evan whispered, holding out his hand._

_Mike sat up, tossing off the covers. He was still wearing his security uniform, tie neat and shirt pressed. He took Evan’s hand, his fingers felt like ice, and immediately was led out of the bedroom._

_“_ _Hey, slow down.” Mike’s complaints fell on deaf ears, the rhythmic sound of his steps alone was the only other thing to break the silence._  
 _Why was the hall longer than he remembered? This didn’t feel like his home. Was he being watched?_

_The walls around him faded into a darkness he could not see through, the ground beneath him no longer visible. He kept his gaze set on Evan. Seeing something physical brought comfort to him. In the blink of an eye, the vision around him changed once more. His steps fell hard on the square tile floor, echoing down the tight corridor. Staring at the alternating colors of the bordered check pattern running the length of the gray walls gave Mike vertigo._   
_Evan finally slowed down, until at last the two stopped at the opening to the dining room at Freddy’s. He pointed towards an opening on the other side of the room. Two men walked through and up to the stage, where the animatronic mascots were dormant and silent._

_“There’s some discoloration on the legs there, you see?” The first man, tall with short dark hair, said and gestured towards Freddy. A clipboard in his hands held a stack of papers that he seemed to be discreetly shielding as if someone else in the room might read what was there._

_The second man was shorter and stockier, with deep frown lines set into his forehead that furrowed as he attempted to see what was being pointed to. “I’m gonna get a closer look,” he said as he turned to walk up the set of steps on the left side of the stage, “you coming?”_

_The first man shook his head, seemingly adamant about staying off the stage though at the same time his gaze was firmly fixed on the top page on his clipboard._

_“Pussy.”_

_“Take it from me, Stephen, when you see first hand what these monsters are capable of doing to a person, you’ll change your attitude.”_

_“Yeah, whatever.” Stephen climbed up the steps, crouching lower as he made his way over to the headlining animatronic. “Alright, Fredboy, let’s see what’s up with you.”_

_Upon closer inspection, the fur was matted where the discoloration occurred. A wide splattering of a crusted substance, coating most of the entire bottom half of Freddy’s legs. The color itself was a reddish-brown and against Freddy’s already brown legs, it would have been impossible to see from afar. Up close, it was clear as day._

_Stephen craned his neck to see it from different angles before looking over to the first. “The hell are you letting your boys DO to these animatronics?”_

_The man gave a huff, an expression of bitter amusement on his face. “It’s more like what are the animatronics doing to them…”_

_“Woah! I’ve heard of advanced AI but god-”_

_“Will you shut the fuck up and just tell me if it looks like blood?”_

_“Blood?” Stephen whipped his head back around to look at the spot again, leaning closer, and slowly lifting his hand, “I suppose it does look like…”_

_“Wait, don’t! Don’t touch Fr-”_

_His fingers brushed against Freddy’s leg, soft where there was fur and rough where it was matted. As he did so, the animatronic bear jerked, as if flinching. His body was moving like he would be performing a show, but with more convulsive motions._

_Stephen straightened slightly to look up at Freddy as he moved. Freddy’s torso turned a complete 180, mic gripped firmly in his hand, as it swung around and clocked the man in the head, knocking him completely off the stage._

_The wind was knocked out of him but Stephen scrambled to his feet, touching gingerly the place on his head where he was now bleeding. “What the fuck is going on?”_

_The bottom of Freddy’s jaw dropped and he lurched forward as he let out a shrill scream. The other two animatronics sprang to life, their eyes lighting up like a switch in their systems had been flipped. The tops of Bonnie’s ears angled downwards like claws, while Chica’s cupcake spun wildly on her plate. With a similar convulsion of movement, they lurched in unison, their jaws also dropping to let out the sound._

_It seemed to Mike like they were staring at him._

_“Michael.”_

_Mike’s attention was pulled away and he looked down as the boy said his name. At first, Evan continued to face the stage, then he turned his head to look up at Mike. There was blood pouring down his face from some unknown spot beneath the hair that covered his forehead. His gaze was intense as he stared directly into Mike’s eyes._

_“They know you’re here, Michael.”_

\-----

Mike’s eyes snapped open and at first he felt relieved to be back in the bedroom he recognized, away from any convulsing or screaming animatronics. It was with a dawning horror he realized he couldn’t move. Despite his straining, his body would not listen to his own demands, choosing instead to remain still beneath the covers.

Light filtered in through the window that cast the outline of the sectioned pane sideways against the wall. Orange, like the world outside was on fire. There was a knock on the glass but he couldn’t turn his head to see if anything was actually there and the illumination remained still. For many minutes, the room around him was so silent, he could hear his own heartbeat and labored breathing. From further in the house, the front door opened and then closed, followed by heavy footsteps. The distinct and familiar sound of metal against hard metal came closer and closer until he was sure whatever walked through his house had stopped right outside the bedroom door.

3 knocks. Silence. The doorknob turned and it slowly and silently opened. Nothing was there. The footsteps started again. Metallic, despite the carpeted floor, traveling from the door to where he was laying.

There was a pressure on his chest like something was pressing down on his lungs, cutting off his breathing. He tried to take in as much air as he could but it became increasingly difficult the more the pressure persisted. A hand traced down the center of his chest, stopping at the base of his stomach. With surgeon precision, it dug in, dragging the hand back up his torso, and tearing his flesh as it went. The pain was scorching but Mike couldn’t open his mouth to scream, choking on the sound as much as the blood in the back of his throat. The pressure lifted.

He sat up, immediately feeling like he had to vomit. Slapping a hand over his mouth, he threw off the covers tangled around him and stumbled through the dark hall to the bathroom. The sudden light as he flipped the switch stung his eyes but he ignored it in favor of his stomach turning inside him. Dropping to the floor just in front of the toilet, he hardly had time to lift the seat before retching and emptying his stomach into the bowl. The spray of red was stark against the white porcelain. The sick feeling dissipated and he sat back, resting the back of his head against the wall as he sucked in the fresh air. With shaking hands, he wiped at his mouth, taking a moment to stare at the blood streaked across the back of his wrist. He lifted his shirt, if only to check that his scars had not actually opened. But his old wounds were untouched. The pale lines shifted with the rise and fall of his chest.

Using the edge of the counter to steady himself, he got to his feet, flushing the toilet and turning on the sink to wash his hands. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were a mess of stains. The water washed the red off his hands, carrying it down the drain and for just a moment, he saw much more than what had been there previously. As if his hands were coated, turning the water beneath a stark pink. He jumped slightly at the sight but it was gone as soon as he blinked. He shook his head and leaned over the sink to splash some clean water in his face. The cold sent a refreshing shiver down his spine. Lifting his head, the reflection of a figure in the doorway caught his attention and he jumped back with a yelp.

Carlton put up his hands. “Woah, hey, it’s just me”

Mike put a hand on his chest and sighed, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“Clearly. I didn’t think I was that scary. Maybe this Halloween I’ll just go as myself. Are...you okay?”

Mike nodded.

“There’s blood on the counter.” Carlton pointed to the streak of red on the countertop, where Mike had put his hand to bring himself to his feet.

Mike followed where he pointed and clicked his tongue. “What could I do to convince you that’s not blood?”

“Maybe you could try not bleeding?”

“I can try but I am, unfortunately, full of far too much blood to make any promises.”

“Yeah that is the truly unfortunate circumstance of being human. I think a vampire could help with that though .”

“I don’t have Vlad the Vampire’s number and things might get weird between us if he was brought into the picture.”

“Gross, I forgot you actually like those old shows. There’s a reason they cancelled it.”

“And that is a crime of itself.” Mike grabbed the towel off the rack to his right and used it to quickly wipe up the blood, throwing it into the sink when he was done. “There. All better.”

“Thank you, now I never saw it. Seriously though, are you doing better?”

“Better than…?”

“You did kind of collapse as soon as you got home last night. And your explanations were...less than understandable. I thought maybe you’d been drinking.” He paused, as if considering. “You haven’t been drinking, right?”

Mike shook his head.“No way, you know me. I’ll be honest with you, I’m...not even sure what happened last night. It’s becoming fuzzy again.” Mike balled his hands into fists as he tried and again failed to bring up any memories.

Carlton walked over and wrapped an arm around him. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ve been through this before. Maybe you’ll feel better if you come eat something. Clear your mind and we can talk it out. Maybe you’ll remember something.”

Though Mike didn’t feel like this was a ‘we’ situation, nor did he feel it was ever a ‘we’ situation, he refused to mention it. Instead he asked, “What time is it anyway?”

Carlton was silent for a moment before responding “10:30.”

“ _10:30 pm?_ ”

“I figured you needed the sleep!”

“I mean, I did, but holy shit. Yeah, I’ll take that food offer.”

The two headed downstairs. Despite Mike’s insistence on helping, Carlton wouldn’t hear any of it, leading him directly to the couch with the promise of making them both something. Mike begrudgingly sat down, pulling the remote out from the space between the cushion and the arm, and turning on the tv while Carlton headed into the kitchen. The television could only do so much to fill the empty air with a whitenoise to drown out the thoughts that raced through his head.

After a bit of time, Carlton called out from the kitchen, “So what’s this new job you have and why is it causing you to actually collapse and sleep for 16 hours as soon as you get home?”

“It’s a job Nathan helped me get. It’s at that one kids restaurant on the other side of town-”

Carlton’s head appeared from the kitchen door. “Freddy’s?”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“Everyone’s heard of it.” He disappeared again, his voice raising to make up for the distance. “I used to go there all the time when I was a kid.”

“Alright Mister ‘Lived Here His Whole Life,’ I had never heard of it. But yes, that would be the very place I got a new job. The hours were the same so I figured it wouldn’t affect too much.”

At last Carlton walked out with two plates of food, one of which he handed Mike, while he sat down beside him with the other. “What exactly is it that you do with those hours?”

“Well I’m night security, so I mostly just watch cameras.”

“For?”

“W-Well I mean I watch them cause- uh- cause I mean the animatronics...walk around and try to...kill...me…”

A beat of silence. “Oh, yeah?”

Mike sighed. “Okay, look, I get it. Of all people, I know how crazy it sounds. But listen there’s...there’s something off about that place. I can’t tell what it is but it’s familiar. It’s a sense of deja vu like I’ve never had before.”

“I thought you just said you had never heard of it before?”

“I hadn’t until a few days ago. I mean, no I did know about it before I think, but it’s one of the memories I lost. There’s memories connected to that place, I’m just not entirely sure what they are yet. But I remembered my childhood bedroom. I think. I remembered a bedroom, that’s all I know.”

“Hey! You remembered something! That’s fantastic as is! Are you gonna mention this to Vanessa?”

“Do you think I should?”

“Do I think- Is that not the whole point of seeing her? Getting your life on track and what not.”

“Alright alright, I’ll mention it at our next session.”

“You work tonight then I assume?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow as well. First week, five days in a row.”

“Can you at least do me a favor when you get off?”

“Hm?”

“Clean your damn shirt.”

\-----

The following day, the yellow rabbit was already in the office waiting for Mike when he walked in.

The quick glance startled him and he jumped back with a cry of, “oh, fuck!”

Springtrap gave a stiff wave and Mike sighed.

“So, what are you, always free roaming?” he asked and walked over to the desk, pulling out the chair and setting his bag on the floor beside it as he sat down.

The cameras on the computer screen flickered but everything was still otherwise. It was still too early for them to be moving. Seizing the opportunity, he cast a glance under the desk. But where there usually was a tape, this time there wasn’t. He furrowed his brow as he straightened and returned his gaze to the camera. An awful smell washed over him and he turned his head to see Springtrap inches from him, looking over his shoulder at the monitor, and making him jump again.

“Buddy, ever heard of personal space?”

Springtrap ignored him, continuing to stare down at the image on screen.

“Hey, did you hear me? I said back up.” In one quick motion, he lifted his arm and used the back of his hand to smack Springtrap square in the snout.

The action startled the rabbit, making him take a few steps back as he lifted a hand to where he had been hit. If it were possible for him to have any sort of facial expression, he would look offended. He turned to Mike who had his back to him, begrudgingly examining the cameras. He lashed a rotten hand out towards Mike but stopped an inch from the back of his neck. A charge of static electricity zapped the end of his finger and he pulled away quickly. He looked from his hand to Mike and back a few times, then he turned and left.

The movement drew Mike’s attention momentarily. He turned to watch Springtrap exit out the right door, a faint outline passing the window in the dark. Scoffing, he turned his attention back to the cameras. The time switched over to 12 and the animatronics began whirring to life. What little light there was glinted off their metal mechanisms that moved beneath their furry shells.

At first just Bonnie wandered around. Mike watched him walk laps around the dining room and slowly make his way down the left hall. He switched from watching the rabbit to the mainstage where Freddy and Chica were still standing in idle positions. It went on like that for the first few hours.

One of the times he switched back to the dining room, however, Bonnie was gone. This didn’t bother Mike at first until he flipped through the surrounding cameras and realized he couldn’t find him at all. When he’d flipped through and scanned every room in the cameras, he looked down the halls. The buzzing light flickered for a few seconds then turned off, but the purple bunny was nowhere in sight. He could feel his nerves flaring up as he went through the cameras once more. After the second round of going through every room, he finally spotted him. In the dark and through the static of the dining room camera, he could just barely make out the silhouette, standing near the far wall. Against the flat surface was a dim red glow, the source being Bonnie’s face.

Mike pulled the screen close, squinting to see more. “What are you-” a loud crash startled him and pulled his attention away.

Looking through revealed the sound was coming from the dismantled kitchen camera. On the mainstage, Chica was missing and Freddy had turned to stare at the camera, the sparse light casting the majority of his face in shadow. A deep laugh echoed through the restaurant and the camera cut to static. The image came back empty, they were all gone. Mike struggled to keep up with all three of them on the move at once. Sweat speckled his forehead and the back of his neck but he was able to keep himself calm for the most part. It seemed strange that only one would be active for so long and then all at once they were up and moving. Like they were animals agitated by something there.

The sound of echoing footsteps to his left drew his attention. He looked to the left hall camera just as a blur of red zipped by. With a shock of fright, he scrambled to his feet, throwing himself towards the door and kicking the desk chair backwards in the process. The flash of red appeared beside the glass window. He slammed his hand on the door button. It came down with a mighty clunk against the hard floor just as the glint of Foxy’s metal teeth started to appear from the shadowed hall.The thud of the animatronic hitting the door was immediately followed by the sound of his hook scraping at the door. The screeching sound made Mike wince and cover his ears.

In just a moment it was gone and it was quiet once again. He hesitantly lifted his hands and stared at the door. He breathed a sigh of relief and took a moment to catch his breath and slow his racing heart. From behind him, a strangled groan made him tense up. He didn’t have time to turn around before two hands grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him sharply backwards and immediately throwing him forward against the door. His face slammed hard against the sheet of metal, bouncing off with the force of impact, and he fell hard on his back. Chica towered over him. She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him up and close enough that he could smell the awful stench coming through from her beak. Her movements were clunky, the motors at her joints whirring, but her strength was immense. Twisting her torso for momentum, she threw him back, sending him flying off his feet, and out the opened right door. He tripped over the knocked over desk chair in the process and hit the far wall, crumpling to the floor.

His vision blurred and he began seeing double as Bonnie now loomed over him, Chica stepping through the doorway to join. They both reached down and each grabbed one of his arms, dragging him down the hallway. A deep laugh echoed somewhere along the way and Freddy stepped out to follow behind. The back of Mike’s head throbbed and he could still feel the blood dripping down the front of his face, leaking into his mouth and filling it with the sharp tang of iron. He stayed in his daze as they passed by the different rooms and ended up on the other side of the building in the backstage.

The room was dark and an eerie chill filled the small space. On the shelves, a dozen animatronic heads watched with empty eyes as if giving silent judgements to the scene below. His thoughts screamed at him to do something, to get up, to fight back. But his head pounded louder than the voice. They set him down on an empty metal table in the center of the room. It reminded him of scenes in medical shows, where the camera shows the point of view of the patient on a surgical table looking up at the doctors. As he dazedly looked at each robotic animal face in turn, it occurred to him that this was how he died. Painfully alone in a glorified fursuit no one would ever find him in.

_Wake up, Michael. You still haven’t remembered._

He snapped out of his daze. With a start, he sat up and shouted “oh, shit!”  
A heavy hand was instantly on his chest, slamming him back down. He attempted to struggle and Bonnie’s hand pressed down harder, pushing all the air out of his lungs as it crushed him.

Chica grabbed his upper arms, pinning them to his side as Freddy retrieved a dismantled suit that had been stashed on the other side of the room and dragged it forward. Mike tried crying out but Bonnie put his other hand over his face, smothering him and crushing his jaw. His nose filled with the smell of moldy fur and he could no longer see what was going on but he braced for it anyway.

Suddenly the tight grip on his arms vanished and was immediately followed by a loud crash somewhere off to the side. The weight on his chest and face were also released a moment later. He gasped as the air rushed back into his lungs and sat up slightly to see what was going on. The yellow rabbit gripped tightly the purple rabbit and threw it to the side like it weighed nothing. Springtrap turned his gaze to Freddy and Foxy who were still standing and stepped between them and Mike. Behind the two animatronics, Chica slowly got to her feet. Foxy turned and left the room quickly, followed by the bear and the chicken and, a moment later, Bonnie as well.

Mike watched each of them flee then turned to Springtrap. “Oh, great. My knight in rotting armor.” He got up from the table and rolled out his aching shoulder. Springtrap lifted his hand and put it up to the edge of his snout, mimicking wiping his nose. Mike took the hint and wiped at his face, a streak of blood remaining on his hand as he pulled away.

“There’s probably a first aid kit in the office,” he stated aloud and walked out, pinching his nose to stop the blood flow. This time he didn’t complain when the yellow rabbit followed him out.

After getting his nose patched up, he situated himself back in the office chair, doing his best to breathe out of his nose instead while he went back to watching the cameras. It was hard not to feel the creeping sensation of the rabbit’s dead eyes watching his every movement as Springtrap stood behind him, keeping a better distance than before. He looked back again to that spot under the desk but still there was nothing. “I would have assumed there’d be one more,” He mumbled, mostly to himself. A thought occurred to him and he turned to Springtrap who tilted his head, the ears bouncing slightly.

With a metal finger he drew a rectangle shape in the air.

Mike nodded. “Know where it is?”

Springtrap held up the metal finger and with his other hand, reached into a ripped open section of his chest. There was a sickening squelching as his hand passed through whatever lay beneath the furry covering of the suit. He removed his hand and with it, a cassette tape. He brushed it off a bit then handed it to Mike.

Giving a disgusted expression, Mike pinched the tape between two fingers as he took it. “Thanks…” He shook his head and carefully put it into the player.

To say the message was concerning would be an understatement. It started off normal but the panic in the man’s voice, overlaid with the sound of a familiar fox at the door, made Mike sit up in his seat. He couldn’t see it, but he could picture it. A man, trapped in a metal box, knowing he was going to die with nothing to prevent it. The headaches started again. Mixed with his previous injury, it made his whole face hurt. But he couldn’t stop listening. At the end of the recording, just before it cut off, there was an unfamiliar animatronic scream at the same time as another behind him. Mike jumped and whipped around, seeing the sound coming from Springtrap who was facing the door to the left. Mike followed his gaze just in time to see Bonnie turn away from the door and head quickly down the hall. The yellow rabbit gave chase.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Mike called after him, but the two vanished into the darkness. All the cameras had turned completely to static no matter where he looked. All at once the cameras returned completely to normal. It was 6 AM. Did that much time really pass? Time didn’t make sense in this place. Nothing did.

The front door alarm went off which spooked Mike again. He was sure the tape he’d just listened to was the sound of the man dying. Then how was he there now to take over the shift? This would have been his opportunity to ask all the questions he had, but he found difficulty in forming the words coherently together in his head. The one who turned the corner was not who he was expecting.

“Nate!”

“Oh man, what happened?”

“Huh?”

Nate tapped his nose twice.

In all that, he’d actually managed to forget even being attacked by the animatronics.“Oh! Uh, it’s nothing! I, umm, I tripped coming into the office and smacked the door.”

Nate nodded, looked around, sniffed, then wrinkled his nose.

“What?” Mike asked with a puzzled expression.

“The hell have you been doing in here? Smells like something died. Then burned...You’re not cooking meth in here are you?”

“What? No?”

“Alright well just, remember you share this office. Watch the smells. Since you’re here, how’s it been?”

“Stressful.”

“I bet. Anything exciting been happening? Anything spooooooky?”

Mike forced a chuckle. “You have no idea. I’m too tired to explain it now though.”

“Ah, that’s fair. We’ll talk later or something. You head home, I’m taking over from here.”

Nodding slowly, Mike got up from the chair and gathered his belongings. As he was heading out, he stopped, and turned around. “Can I ask you something though?”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever seen any weird animatronics here?”

“Like?”

“A yellow bear that only appears in the static, or a really old yellow bunny that crawls around in the vents.”

Nate raised a brow. “I think this shift is getting to you, man. Go home. Get some sleep. It’s clear you need it.”

“Alright but I’m stopping back by in a few hours. There’s...too much I want to talk about. Even if I can’t explain it all now.”

“It’s a date then. See you later.”

Mike shook his head then walked out into the hall. The moment he was outside of the door, he stopped, staring down the dim stretch of tile as a deep dread settled into his stomach, his skin crawling. All he could picture was the yellow bear, walking towards him, one clunky footstep at a time. It’s head would be just slightly tilted to the side, it’s jaw agape and hollow eyes focused on him dripping a black ooze he could not name. It would get closer and closer, a single hand extended towards him. And once it reached him...The fear he felt was powerful enough to make his knees shake and his breathing became quicker as if he couldn’t take in enough air. There was nothing there but his thoughts kept racing.

Nate stepped through the door behind Mike and put a hand on his shoulder. The sudden touch made Mike scream, the sound echoing down the hall and subsequently making Nate jump as well, as Mike whipped around to look at him. “Are you sure you’re ok?” Nate asked, his brows furrowed in an expression of concern.

Mike hesitated, his hands still shaking and it took what little strength he had left not to break down right there. Shaking his head slowly he responded, “I just want to go home.”

“Do you want me to call Carlton? Maybe he can come pick you up.” As he spoke, he was already walking back towards the office, his eyes on the desk phone.

Before he could make it far, Mike’s hand shot up and gripped the sleeve of his shirt tightly. “No!”

Nate looked at Mike then down to where his hand was on his arm. “Ow.”

Releasing his grip, he said more softly. “No. Don’t call him. He’s…already concerned for me.”

“Yeah, no shit, Mike. So am I. Are you even ok to drive?”

“I’ll...I’ll be fine. I just need to get out of this place.”

“Goddammit. Alright, let me at least help you.” Nate walked beside Mike all the way through the building, looking like he was ready at any moment to catch him should he decide to faint. Even when they’d reached the main doors, where Mike expected them

to part ways, his friend’s company was with him all the way to his car. “You better be ok to drive cause Mike, I swear to god if I hear you got into a car wreck on the way home… I am not afraid to punch your corpse in the face.”

“I get it, Nate. Uh..thanks. I’ll talk to you later.

With a nod, Nate headed back into the dark building, alone and unafraid. For just a moment Mike’s mind drifted and he only came to when he was pulling into his driveway. He hardly remembered shifting the car into gear, let alone driving it all the way home. He let his body carry him into the house and to his bed, though this time he actually stopped to get out of his work clothes before crawling beneath the warm covers that enveloped him. He just hoped this time there wouldn’t be any nightmares.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU. It exists in its own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

“You’re out, Afton!” The booming voice travelled across the field and with a wave of frustration, Michael hit the bat against the ground, sending up a spray of pale dirt, and he dragged it along behind him as he stormed off.

Instead of stopping at the sidelines, he opted for heading straight to the locker rooms. The summer heat was making him sweat more than the effort of the sport and as he stood in front of the locker designated to him, his bat set down on the ledge, he pulled his shirt up to wipe at his forehead.

“You’re playing like shit out there.” A voice behind him mocked.

Were it not for whose voice it was, Michael would have turned around and decked the speaker.

“Piss off, Mitchie. Better than you could do.” He lifted the combination lock and began turning it, then stopped and glanced back at her.

Mitchie, who had been peering over his shoulder to see the code, averted her gaze and began whistling to seem less suspicious. She pretended to tuck her light brown hair behind her ear despite it being shorter than his mullet.

Returning to his task, Michael added, “You shouldn’t even be in here anyway.”

Another head peeked out from behind the wall of lockers with a smirk. “Nah, this is a party and she’s just our plus one.”  
Chris stepped out and leaned with one arm against the locker right beside Michael’s.

Mitchie sat down on the center bench, crossing one leg over the other. Davie was last to round the corner, laying face down on the bench beside her.

“So what was that out there, huh?” Davie asked, lifting his head enough to rest on his elbows.

“You’re slackin’ out there, boy.” Chris responded, adding a southern drawl to his words with a laugh.

“I miss being able to shout ‘go british boy go’ and watching you hit 12 homeruns in a row.” Mitchie mimicked the motion of swinging a bat, popping her mouth when she ‘hit the ball’ and making a wide arc with her finger while letting out a long whistle, ending it with an explosion.

Michael scoffed, “I think I’ve only ever hit 3 successful homeruns in my life.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Mitchie rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, well now you can’t even do anything but strike out. What’s up with you?”

“This a bloody group therapy? Piss off.” At last managing to correctly put the combination in, Michael tore the lock off the locker with enough force that it launched out of his hand, clattering to the floor and sliding under the bench. Yanking his clean clothes from the lockers, he tossed one at a time over the top of the door, then pulled out his backpack and set it beside the bat. Grabbing the bottom edge of his shirt, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “Do you mind?”

Mitchie covered her eyes with one hand and with the other, Davie’s, who let out a disgruntled, “hey.”

“Alright subject change,” Mitchie cut in, “Boys and I are heading out a little later, you coming?”

Michael pulled the dirt-smeared baseball tee over his head, replacing it with the clean grey shirt and shook his head. “Can’t. Dad says I’m babysitting tonight.”

“Oh barf.” Chris pushed off the locker, heading over to the sinks across from the bathroom stall, turning on the faucet and shoving his head under the running water to get a drink.

Davie tilted his head. “You could always sneak out.”

Replacing the dirtied baseball pants with his jeans, he tossed the uniform back into the locker and closed the door with a scoff. “Are you kidding?

Last time I tried that, stupid crybaby snitched to dad and I was lucky to have even survived the end of that conversation. Too risky.”

The sound prompted Mitchie to lower her hand and in turn, she raised a brow. “Who are you and what have you done with Michael Afton? First you turn shit at baseball, now you’re calling things too risky? C’mon, slide The Brat a dollar and she’ll probably be more successful at keeping The Crybaby quiet.”

Looking around for the lock to his locker, he gave a dry laugh and responded, “Until she realizes it would go against her perfect ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ routine she keeps up all the time.”

Mitchie reached under the bench, patting the ground until her hand brushed the cold metal and she pulled the lock out, handing it to Michael.

“Alright well look. You probably don’t have to watch them until later tonight, right? At least come out right now and we can go to the Snack Space or something.”

A look of skepticism passed across his face as he took the lock and put it onto the locker. “I suppose the kid’s able to walk home on his own.”

Chris reappeared next to them, wiping the water from his mouth. “How old were you when your dad started letting you go off alone?”

“Younger. Alright fine. But we should go before-”

“Michael?” A small voice called from the far entrance of the locker room and the group froze.

They all exchanged looks and a small smile crept across Michael’s face as he put a finger to his lips. He looked around, his eyes landing on the showers in the corner. Giving a look to Mitchie, she followed his gaze and gave a knowing nod, pulling the other two along with her.

In the silence, the sound of soft footsteps almost seemed to echo. Evan peered down the spaces between the lockers as he passed each row, sure that his brother had to be in there somewhere. He stopped at one of the rows, spotting the backpack and bat still on the bench. Walking closer, he looked up and around. “Michael? This isn’t funny.”

“What isn’t funny?”

Jumping with fright, Evan whipped around to see Michael standing in the same entrance to the row that he had just walked through. He huffed in frustration and crossed his arms. “Nothing. Are we going home now? You’re clearly done with practice.”

With a scowl, Michael stepped towards Evan who instinctively stepped back. The look was replaced with a devilish smile, a smile Evan knew well as only meaning trouble, and they both took another step.

“Michael... whatever you’re planning, don’t,” he warned with a voice he tried his best to keep steady.

The warning was ignored as Michael kept walking forwards. “You know Ev,” he stalked forward like a hunting carnivore, taking his sweet time as he relished in the fear that sparkled in his younger brother’s eyes, “ it’s been pretty warm out there don’t you think?”

Not even sparing a glance over his shoulder to see where he was going, Evan continued to take several steps back, hoping to keep the distance between them long enough to figure a way out of the situation. His foot landed on tile and he tensed up, realizing he’d been backing himself into a corner he didn’t want to be in. “D-dad will be angry with you.”

“You really gonna bother him over something so stupid? Gonna go cry to him like the little snitch you are? Huh?”  
Evan remained silent.

“Yeah that’s what I thought. I’m sure dad won’t mind us giving you a quick cool off right about... NOW!”

At his signal, two more sets of hands grabbed Evan from behind, latching on to his arms and his backpack. He shrieked as Chris and Davie dragged him closer to the showers where Mitchie was now waiting with her hand at the ready on the valve.

“Michael!” He cried out. “This isn’t funny!”

“What isn’t funny?” Michael repeated his own statement in a mock innocent tone. While the other two boys held his arms, Michael pulled off Evan’s backpack, asking, “you still keep your plushies in here?”

“Hey, stop, give it back!”

Without checking for an answer to his own question, Michael unzipped the largest pocket and nodded towards Mitchie. She turned the valve and leaned back to avoid the immediate spray of water.

“Hope they know how to swim,” Michael said and held the pack open beneath the flowing water, soaking the contents within. With a smile he looked towards Evan again. “And you’re next, chump.”

While the group laughed, and with an overwhelming surge of strength, Evan tore free from the grasp of his tormentors. Lowering his head, he got a running start and rammed straight into Michael’s stomach, causing him to drop the backpack which Evan was then able to pick up as he tore for the exit, ducking under the arms that tried to grab at him.

The blow dazed Michael for a second, the wind knocked out his lungs but he shook it out and ran after his brother, grumbling, “oh you’ll pay for that,” as he left.

Evan shouldered open the door that led back outside, the dripping backpack clutched against his chest and soaking the front of his shirt. The pavement path was bordered on both sides by a chain link fence and sloped upwards through the bleachers, leaving him no choice but to run up and back onto the field. The baseball team had gathered together for some kind of meeting just outside the dugout, leaving the main field clear for him to attempt to make it to the opposite corner in time.

But Michael was older, bigger, and faster. It didn’t take him long to catch up and halfway across the field, he tackled his brother all the way to the ground, pinning him there with his knee in his back.

The backpack slipped from Evan’s hands as he fell, landing a foot away, and he had to turn his head to keep from being suffocated in the grass. He hated the feeling of it against his face, the sensation making his skin crawl.

Michael grabbed Evan’s arm and held it painfully behind his back. “I told you you would pay for that.”

“Ow! Stop it, Michael, that hurts!”

He pulled harder at his arm and leaned downwards closer to his ear to shout, “apologize!”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry! Ow ow ow, uncle! Uncle!”

Michael let go and pushed off him to his feet. He stood over his brother as Evan rolled over and leaned up on his elbows to look up at him with a scowl. “Walk yourself home, chump. I’ll see you tonight.”

As he looked up and around, Michael could see a few of his teammates watching from afar. Narrowing his eyes, he turned away and continued across the field towards the main gated entrance where his friends were waiting for him on the other side. The gate itself was closed, but not locked. Still, Michael took the time to climb the side and jump from the top.

“Here you go jerk,” Davie said, tossing Michael’s backpack and bat towards him.

The heavy pack hit him in the chest and he just barely caught his bat in time before it could fly past him. “Yeah whatever, ass. You were laughing too. Consider yourself lucky you don’t have siblings.” He opened the backpack and put the bat inside, crushing the already haphazardly shoved in papers deeper down. Zipping it back up, he slung it over his shoulders and Chris had to dodge being smacked in the face.

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” Mitchie responded as she led the way away from the school.

They kept close to the fence for a while as they looped around the field and at last broke off from it when they reached the woods on the very far side. It was a bit of a trek, the path that was once there was so overgrown with underbrush and littered with fallen branches that it was hardly visible. Still, it was the quickest path to the convenience store they frequented.

Not much more than a simple gas station, it was out in the middle of seemingly nowhere and none of them were sure they’d ever seen any cars there besides the owner’s rusted pickup truck he parked in different places every day. The little store didn’t have a name sign so the group had lovingly dubbed it “The Snack Space.” The inside was split in two. On one half, there were 3 rows of half shelves fully stocked with junk foods and simple car or home needs, with a wall of drink coolers in the back. The other half of the store was almost a mini diner, the registers set in front of the kitchen with a large menu board above it, and two small tables pushed up against the wide windows in front of the hallway leading to the bathrooms. It was a frequent spot for preteens and younger kids to travel out to to get something to eat after school since options in town were rather slim. Of all the kids, Michael and his friends were the top customers. As far as they knew, the owner, Mr. Marks, was the only one who worked there since, like the cars, they never saw anyone else there. He was an older man and friendly, despite their typically troublesome tendencies. He had a way of getting along with the kids deemed “problems” by other adults and was ok with looking the other way every once in a while if a kid couldn’t afford the food on their own and a bit of the product mysteriously went missing. Generally he did his best to help out the less fortunate as much as he could.

The bell above the door announced their entrance and was followed by a gruff voice from the kitchen shouting, “be there in a moment!”  
Mitchie strutted up to the counter while Chris and Davie shuffled over to the tables and Michael headed towards the drink coolers. The snacks on either side were tempting to want to grab and slip into his pocket but he figured he might as well save his hunger for the actual food. Despite the place being somewhat grubby and run down, the burgers and fries were the best of the best. As he opened the fridge door, the rush of cold air hit him and he stood there for a moment staring at the shelves of drinks just to feel it against his face.

Mr. Marks appeared a moment later and began jotting down their usual order as Mitchie repeated it to him. Michael grabbed a bottle from the fridge and closed the door, heading over to the front counter and setting it down just as Mitchie was handed the receipt. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a ten dollar bill, setting it next to the soda.

Mitchie scoffed. “Alright, money bags, why didn’t you pay for lunch?”

Michael mimicked her scoff in a more mocking tone, adding, “I don’t get the allowance you do. I hardly get anything just for watching all the brats.” He took the change with a nod towards Mr. Marks, shoved the bills and coins into his pocket, and plucked the bottle off the counter, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink of it as he walked towards the tables. Chris and Davie were sitting opposite each other at the first table and Michael took the seat next to Davie in the middle while Mitchie got the seat on the other side of him.

“I bet you could get more if you asked,” Chris offered, picking at a tear in the cushion of the seat between his legs.

Davie reached over and swatted his arm. “Stop doing that. He’s right though, it’s not like your dad’s lacking in funds right? The diner probably rakes in all the cash.”

“I don’t exactly pay attention to my dad’s personal finances.”

“You should.” Mitchie cut in, leaning over the table. “That diner is pretty much the only thing keeping this town going. I bet your dad has loads of money that he’s just hoarding away. Him and that business partner of his are just waiting for the day they can blow this town and go live out in some massive mansion or something.”

“I doubt that,”

“Aren’t they opening an entirely new restaurant too?”

“Yeah, soon. Over in Hurricane. They’re going all in with this new Fazbear branding. Calling it Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.”

“Oooh, pizza sounds amazing.” Chris’s eyes sparkled like he could just taste the food on his tongue already.

Davie kicked his feet up on the table and added, “at the very least, you could ask him to increase your babysitting allowance. Talk to him like a businessman or something. Adults like that for whatever reason.”

Before Michael could add any more, Mr. Marks came out with a plastic tray and four neatly folded over paper bags, setting it down on the table between Chris and Davie. “You kid’s enjoy,” he said as he headed back into the kitchen, disappearing behind a swinging door.

Looking through the contents of each bag, they divided out the food to their respective owner and Mitchie got to her feet. “Alright, river time.”

“Hey woah woah,” Michael cut in, “I said I’d come with you to get food and that’s it. I gotta get home.”

“But it’s blazing hot out there.” Mitchie motioned out the window, the sun still shining brightly on the dusty surroundings. “You don’t have to stay as long as we do, just take a quick dip to cool off. You’ll thank me later.”

Though the better part of him wanted to argue, he didn’t. The group made the trek back out, this time following the path of the empty road. They did their best to stay in the shade as much as possible but in some cases there wasn’t any to shelter under. The sun beat mercilessly down on them and a speckling of sweat appeared on Michael’s forehead which he wiped away with his shirt. The roaring of the river started off small but grew louder the closer they got. Eventually they cut back through the woods, taking the road less traveled to get to their normal spot.

A large pond at the base of a waterfall that stretched up 10 feet at most, surrounded at the edges by smooth clay and stones. Despite the rushing water from the top, the bottom was rather smooth and only small waves were created by the displaced water. At the water’s edge, where it wasn’t completely overtaken by the shrubbery, there was a pseudo-beach that gave them enough space and seclusion for it to be another frequent hang out spot. Some evenings, Michael would sneak out there alone, just to have a quiet place to himself for a while. Though no one would come forward and admit it, he assumed the others probably did the same from time to time.

The four tossed their packs into a pile off to the side, and settled comfortably on the ground with their paper bags of food. Mitchie was quick to take her shoes off and dip her feet into the chilled water, sighing with relief and leaning back against a large clay boulder. It was quiet as they all ate, simply enjoying each other’s company and the warm air. Michael cast his gaze upwards, staring into the deep blue of the sky and watching a plane cut across it. After a bit, Mitchie tossed the excess wrappers back into her bag and pushed it to the side as she stood up. She stretched her arms up above her head, cracking her spine and her neck before rolling out her shoulders and diving fully clothed into the water. A moment later her head resurfaced and she stuck her tongue out at the 3 watching her.

“You wimps gonna join me or just cook in the sun? It feels great out here!” She called over the roar of the waterfall and let herself float on her back.

Chris wadded up his wrapper and tossed it as hard as he could into the distant bushes, pushing himself up to his feet to join her. Just before he could, another kid jumped up onto the rock, startling the 3 of them.

“Hey,” he shouted, rather angrily. He looked to be the same age as the group and though his face was familiar to Michael, it wasn’t anyone he knew well enough to remember the name of. “This is our beach.”

As he stood, glaring down at them, two more boys of about the same age scrambled up onto the rock beside him. Most likely they had come from the woods just as Michael and his friends had, but cut through a different way to get to the spot.

Michael snorted bitterly, “is not. We come down here all the time and haven’t ever seen you.”

Chris and Davie both walked over to stand next to Michael and Mitchie quickly spotted the scene and started swimming back. It didn’t take her long to reach the shore and stand dripping wet beside Davie while watching curiously.

“Yes it is. This is our space and you’re trespassing.”

The kid on the left cut in, staring directly at Michael as he asked, “hey, aren’t you that Afton kid? Your dad owns the diner?”

“Yeah, what of it?” Michael retorted.

The kid laughed and folded his arms across his chest. “My dad says your dad’s a pretty shitty guy. That your whole family is pretty rotten and loves to take things that aren’t theirs.”

“Oh yeah? Well your dad can shove it.”

The first kid shook his head and stepped in front of his friend. “Look, you seem like reasonable fellas, how about a wager for it?”

Michael scowled. “No way! This is our spot and-”

Mitchie smacked a hand against Michael’s chest and stepped forward, cutting him off. “What’s the wager?”

A devilish smile played across the kid’s face. “I figured you’d be understanding. My buddy here,” he motioned a hand towards the kid to his right who for the most part had been silently watching the whole time, “is on the swim team. Lungs of steel. If one of you thinks you can jump into the water and hold your breath longer than he can, you can have the spot. If not, you have to get lost.”

The idea of a little friendly competition was tempting to all of them and behind Mitchie, the three of them exchanged silent glances. But her gaze was kept steady and she smiled. “Alright. Whoever wins gets the spot and the other has to never come back here. Ever.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Move over, I bet I could take him,” Mitchie took a step towards the rock but was stopped and the kid put up a hand and shook his head.

“No no, jumping off the rock would be too easy.” He pointed a finger towards the waterfall and collectively everyone followed his gaze. “You have to jump from the top of there.”

Davie laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“Are you scared?”

“No way,” Mitchie flashed a warning glance to Davie and turned back to the kid, “you’re on, twerp.”

The three rival kids hopped off the rock and began leading the way up to the top of the waterfall. As the other group began filing in behind them, Michael grabbed Mitchie and pulled her closer. “Mitch, what the bloody hell are you thinking? You are afraid of heights.”

She shifted awkwardly but before she could respond, Chris cut in. “She doesn’t have to. I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, you and that inhaler in your backpack will definitely come out on top.” Davie stepped into the conversation. “I’ll do it.”

“Can’t we just punch their teeth in? Come on, it’s four against three, we could totally take them on and claim this spot.” Michael cracked his knuckles at his own suggestion, his gaze moving to the bat sticking out of his bag.

“Where’s your sense of sportsmanship, Afton?” Mitchie punched his shoulder, “Stop acting like a caveman swinging your fists. And no, none of you can do it, I’ll do it and it’ll be fine.”

“Are you chickening out?” The kids called from the top of the falls and as the group looked up at them, they began mimicking the sounds and motions of actual chickens.

“Let’s go.” Mitchie commanded and led the way as they each took turns climbing up. The clay was soft and they had to test before putting their full weight on anything to make sure it wouldn’t break off and send them tumbling back down to the bottom.

“Who are you putting up to compete?”

Mitchie took a step forward. “I will.” She walked closer to the edge, trying but failing to conceal her nervousness as she cast a quick glance to the water below.

The three boys nodded and jumped a few of the rocks so there was space between the two competitors. Something about this whole competition felt off to Michael. A gut feeling he could not place crept into his mind. He looked to Mitchie and his worry grew.

“On the count of 3 and then jump at the same time. One...two…”

Unable to take the worry, at the last second he grabbed the back of Mitchie’s shirt and yanked her backwards. At the same time he took a step forward. She tried to say something but didn’t have time.

“THREE!”

Michael leapt off the edge, turning midair and sticking his tongue out towards his friends before plummeting. Taking a gulp of air, he heard the sound of something heavy hitting the water a moment before he crashed through himself. The chill of the water soaked straight through his clothes and his skin, hitting his bones and sending a shiver down his spine. The bubbles around them cleared and Michael opened his eyes. The pond was deeper than he thought it would be, disappearing many feet below him. The thick trunk of a fallen tree was sunk to the bottom as well and he noticed that his competition was holding onto it, assumedly so he wouldn’t have to waste any energy using the rest of his body to keep himself below the surface. Smart. Michael swam over and grabbed one of the branches as well. The kid smiled and shook his head. Michael flipped him off. For a few seconds they simply stared at each other, the tension radiating through the water. The kid looked up towards the top of the water for a moment. Then he suddenly turned back and kicked a leg out towards Michael.

Barely dodging the blow to his chest, Michael did his best to not inhale. The kid was cheating, trying to get him to lose the breath he held so he would be forced to swim back for air. Although his movements were slowed, Michael dove towards the other kid, gripping his shoulders. The kid grabbed Michael’s arms and the two tumbled together beneath the waves, each trying to throw the other off. The bubbles it created made it almost impossible to see. At last the kid was above him, and shoved him backwards. The two had managed to shift their positions closer to the wall of rocks that the falls spilled over and Michael felt the back of his head strike something hard behind him. He shook it off and glared up at the kid but stopped. The kid had a distraught and frightful look on his face and he looked around a moment before shaking his head and swimming back towards the shore.

A sense of triumph came over Michael and he flipped the kid off one last time as his form faded into a distant blur. Just to seal the fact that he’d won, Michael stayed under a few seconds longer. Those kids wouldn’t be messing with him and his friends again anytime soon. By that point his lungs were burning and he realized he should call it.

Kicking off the rocks, he began swimming to the surface. As he reached it, his head hit against something hard and flat. He sank back down a few inches and put a hand on the top of his head where he’d hit. He looked back with confusion and reached his hand up. Though he could see the ripple of the water distorting his view of the sky, his hand pressed flat against it like he was touching a window or ice. But how could there be ice in the beginning of summer in a place where there hadn’t been any a moment before. The panic was beginning to set in. This had to be a joke, part of the elaborate scheme of the other kids. He pressed both hands against the surface and pushed upwards as hard as he could, willing it to move or break so he could get out. His lungs screamed for air he couldn’t reach and he desperately began pounding a fist against it. A shadow passed over, blocking the sun from reaching him. A small fishing boat parked just to the side of where he was so that his position was parallel with its side. A figure looked over the edge and down to him, it’s face long and inhuman. Though it was heavily distorted, Michael thought it looked like an alligator head. The hollow eyes stared directly into his and suddenly Michael stopped struggling.

There was once a day in his science class where they discussed the hypotheticals of what happens when someone drowns. Some kids pointed out that the gas within someone’s body and lungs would cause them to float to the surface like a balloon. Some stated that you wouldn’t float until after you were dead. It had sparked a full argument that no one could prove because no one there had experienced what it was like to drown. Michael did not float. He sank like his lungs were made entirely of metal. He didn’t thrash or struggle like he’d seen people do in movies. Was he even in his own body? He hit the bottom of the pond, staring up at the distorted sky. From a distant place, someone was calling his name. No, not calling. Screaming. There was so much screaming. Darkness blotted the edge of his vision and he closed his eyes.

His eyes shot open and the pain returned, he sat up abruptly and spit out the water that had been filling his lungs, gasping in the fresh air. His chest and throat burned and his eyes streamed.

“Michael, oh my god!” Mitchie threw her arms around him and from the way she was shaking, he could tell she was crying.

Chris put a hand gently on his other shoulder but Davie seemed a little more hesitant to touch him. One of them said something but Michael’s brain felt too fuzzy to process it properly. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “What happened? Did I win?”

“Yeah… yeah I think you did.” Davie assured him.

“Oh man, you should have seen it. I mean, you kind of did, I guess,” Chris eagerly began telling the story. “But you were both under there for a long time and then suddenly the kid came tearing out of the water. He was shouting about how we won and that he and his friends needed to go. They seemed hesitant but they listened and they ran off like a bunch of loser chickens. But at first you didn’t come back up after him.”

“What even happened under there?” Mitchie at last pulled away, giving him a concerned expression.

“The kid tried to cheat.” Michael kept his gaze fixed on one rock on the ground, his stomach churning. “Then what happened?”

“We all got concerned so we dove in after you. Well, Mitchie dove in after you. She came back up a second later and said you were stuck under there and your eyes were closed. So Davie hopped in too and pulled you out. Then he gave you CPR.”  
Michael shook his head but before he could respond, he heaved forward and threw back up his watered down lunch. He groaned but ultimately felt a lot better.

“You hit your head on some rocks and your shirt got stuck on that tree under there,” Mitchie added on

“We thought you were dead!” Chris shouted and Michael winced slightly at the sound. “Does any of this sound familiar? What happened? How did the kid cheat?”

“I just remember we were both under there, he tried to kick me so I tackled him, then he pushed me. I guess that’s when I hit the rock but...I don’t remember getting stuck to the tree. I remember trying to get out and I couldn’t and then there was…” Michael stopped.

“Was what?”

Pulling his gaze from the ground, he looked out across the water. A wooden fishing boat rocked gently in the center of the pond, its one passenger had an alligator head in place of a human one with a fisherman’s hat placed on top. The figure at first was facing away from Michael but slowly turned to look at him. The moment their eyes met, the screaming began and everything turned red.


End file.
